The Art of Timing
by hollysarena
Summary: For two people so hopeless at timing, they might just be perfect for each other. "Someone once said that comedy was tragedy plus time. Well, someone Up There must be having a good old laugh at my sad, pathetic life."
1. Prologue

**So, this is my first time at even trying to attempt a Marauder-Era story. Actually, it's the first time I've tried to write a multi-chapter story is a really long time. Part of the idea came from watching HIMYM, part of the idea came from listening to Regina Spektor and part of the idea came from sitting on a bus. Please, bear with me. **

**Also, I imagine the chapter to have a few bumps in grammar and expression - if anyone is interested in being a beta reader, that would be great.**

**Disclaimer: **If I was J.K. Rowling, I'd been working on a deal with BBC to make a series out of the Marauders, not here.

* * *

_"All you can do is try to know who your friends are, as you head off to the war"  
_- Regina Spektor, The Call. **  
**

**PROLOGUE**

Someone once said that comedy was tragedy plus time. Well, someone Up There must be having a good old laugh at my sad, pathetic life.

There is a moment, usually in dark times like these, when you realize you might not have that much time left. You could have weeks, days or even hours before it all came crashing down. In the past few weeks, all of us had been holding our breaths, waiting for the next death to come.

None of us could remember what we'd been like, who we had really been, before this year. I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't slept with one eye open. Marlene couldn't remember the last morning she had actually watched a whole game of Quidditch. Ambria couldn't remember the last she had truly enjoyed a sneaky drink of firewhiskey.

All of us were different. We might be considered older, wiser, or even stronger; but that wasn't it at all. If anything, the one thing the war makes you is desperate. At the start of the year, we all fancied ourselves invincible – now, I spent every evening wondering if I'd wake up the next morning. It pulls everything into perspective. You realize how little you truly have, and how much you don't. All of those things that you assumed you would achieve turn into wisps of possibility determined by how many days you desperately held onto. It all rested on whether you were lucky enough to survive.

Everything we had left was measured by time.

So, when I saw him, disappearing around the corner, I realized what little fraction of time I had left. It was as if everything I was hoping for rested in the next five minutes and after that, it was gone – and this time, for good. It was in that moment that I made a choice; instead of grasping onto moments of my future as they came to me, I would make an active effort to claim them. I was going to fight for my time, and I was going to die fighting for it.

If there was one thing I couldn't let the war take from me, it was the power to make my own choices. I was going to determine what happened in however much time I had left. Not Voldemort, not the Order, me.

I rounded the corner after him, my legs moving in such a clumsy speed that I collided with his back. He turned around and looked at me, completely puzzled. Staring up at him, I realized that whatever I said now, whatever choice I made, was set in stone. This was a turning point in history; in mine and possibly in the Wizarding World's.

"James," I breathed, my heart hammering my chest.

Then it occurred to me that I was not the only one with the power to change time, to change history. Whatever he replied, whatever he felt could change the course of both our fates.

And, for two people who were so terrible at timing, the concept of history relying on what he said next terrified me.


	2. Of Oozing Responsibilities

**First of all, I would like to thank the lovely Tara for being my beta reader and editing it so quickly this morning. Second of all, I'd like those who reviewed and alerted after only reading the prologue - I really appreciate it! Hopefully chapter one meets your expectations. **

**Disclaimer: **Not J.K. Rowling. Just me. Little ol' fanfiction writing me. So I highly doubt I'll make money off of this.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE **

It started out with a feeling. A feeling of absolute dread that welled in my gut as I pushed myself toward the compartment.

* * *

**Friday 5th August, 1977; **Spinner's End, Cokeworth, England.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't used to hearing screams in my sleep. Though, usually the screams that plagued my dreams weren't quite so jovial. Nor did they tend to continue once my dream had come to a jolting finish.

_So, what the bloody hell was that squealing noise?_

My eyes snapped open. Lazily late summer sunlight drifted through the slits in my wooden blinds, catching swirls of floating dust in its glare. Not that I could see this, of course, considering the very excited face that was startlingly close to my own.

"Oh, Lily, I'm sorry but I just couldn't help it!" the face beamed, not an ounce of genuine apology in her voice. After what seemed like a groggy eternity, my eyes finally decided to focus, and Ambria finally decided to stop invading my personal space. She sat back on the end of my bed, her body trembling with anticipation.

When you share a dormitory with someone for a good six years, you start to discover everything about them; the good, the bad and the things you really didn't want to know, _ever_. What I had quickly learned about Ambria is that she had a tendency to get a little overexcited(read: _absolutely barking mad_). I mean, how couldn't she? The girl charmed her hair a different colour every day (today she'd gone with an alarming shade of blue) and spent her free time chaining herself to the doors of the Ministry. So, when she starting waving an opened envelope in front of my face, it was safe to say that I was wary, if not completely terrified.

"Couldn't help what?" I ventured carefully, pushing myself to sit. I could feel the tendons in my neck threatening to snap if I didn't do something; trying to determine what she babbling on about while lying down was clearly a bad idea. Dealing with Ambria's episodes is clearing a job to be done straight up.

With a somewhat strangled noise, Ambria tossed the envelope into my lap. Paired with the familiar embossed parchment and emerald handwriting, the unmistakable (and broken, I noted dryly) wax seal left no question of who it was from.

_Hogwarts letter. Great. Not a big deal. You get one every year. Obviously, every other year Ambria hadn't had an epileptic fit, but why should that mean this is any different? No expectations, no pressure - don't worry, Lily. Just breathe. Breathe._

"Feel it," she grinned. Her silvery-blue eyes practically swam in mirth. "Feel how heavy it is!"

I did not _want _to feel how heavy it is; that would simply add to the growing weight piling onto my chest. But she was right - the envelope in question was remarkably heavy compared to those of previous years. Then again, we had N.E. this year, didn't we? The professors (those sadists) were _bound _to have assigned at least an extra trunk worth of textbooks. That would definitely bulk it up.

Admittedly, among the building pressure in my rib cage, there was a small niggle of excitement. Or was it more anticipation? Merlin, I didn't even know, I just knew that part of me _really _didn't want to open the envelope.

Taking a deep breath, I flipped the broken flap upward. "Alright, let's see."

It fell out onto the bed with a soft thud. There, nestled in the duvet that covered my now rigid legs, sat a badge. Golden - _"_I hope it's only plated," added Ambria, her voice breaking through the pounding blood in my ears, "it's not fair the way Leprechauns are forced to manipulate our gold!" - and flashing in the sunlight, it practically _oozed _responsibility. I wasn't sure whether it resembled maple syrup oozing over waffles, or whether it closer to toxic sludge. Responsibility plus Lily was usually a sound equation - but _that _much responsibility? The words etched across the prestigious Hogwarts coat of arms made my stomach drop.

_Head Girl. _

Before I even had a chance to feel surprised, Ambria launched herself right on top of me and trapped me in a hug. Great, just great. I tried not to have a panic attack against her. "Oh, Lil!" she breathed, her arms tightening. One breath in, one breath out, one breath in. "This is fantastic! You're going to perfect! I knew you'd get it, I _knew!" _

_Knew? _How could she possibly know when I didn't? And perfect? Really, that's a little bit of exaggeration, don't you think? _Lily, don't think about the pressure. Do not. Don't. I'm telling y— _

It was obvious from the accompanying parchment that the list of responsibilities had tripled from prefect duties last year, and even _that _was difficult to balance my work with. Well, yeah, I _might_ have been a little melodramatic with my time management, but the thought of my school work dwindling sent my obsessive-compulsive tendencies into overdrive. And when they went into overdrive, so did my lungs.

"…And you will have so much _influence _now! Think of all the rallies we could organize!" Ambria continued rambling, blissfully unaware of the inner meltdown I was currently experiencing. "I definitely think we need to focus of helping the centaurs this year. Did you know that that bastard Murdoch in the Beast Division is trying to make this law that — _Lily_?"

Ah, yes. As always I had ignored my wise inner thoughts and flung myself from the bed. Once I reached the window - probably with the initial intention of throwing myself from it - I ripped open the blinds, filling the room with blinding light. Judging from Ambria's disgruntled sound of surprise behind me, I suppose it wasn't my greatest move. Still, once I'd finally shoved open the window and breathed in a gulp of cool air, the urge to jump wasn't quite so overwhelming.

_Oh bloody hell, _I needed that. Three (somewhat greedy) breaths later and my insides were feeling much less frazzled. Ambria was probably staring at me like I was some sort of loon - which frankly, I would call _hypocritical _- but I couldn't care less. While she might strive to be different, I had no choice. Having Head Girl tattooed across my forehead would only add to the many 'unique qualities' I was dumped with.

All of my life I had been considered abnormal. As a kid, I was constantly the centre point of bizarre situations - cupboards flying open when I was angry, Richard Higgins falling off of his bike when he pushed Petunia over on the road, my mouth clamping shut so tightly that even the dentist _and _his assisting nurse couldn't pry it open. Contrary to popular belief, human beings aren't as stupid as they're made out to be - soon, they began to notice.

Of course, it wasn't to the point where they figured out what I actually _was _- even the most flexible Muggle imagination can't be given that much credit - but parents started to _kindly suggest _that their children steer clear of that, so charmingly titled, "Evans girl".

Sooner or later, nobody on our street wanted to even come near our _house_. Petunia was the only person who wanted to be around me. My mother used to call me the uncontrollable fire; if that was the case, Petunia was a contained strike of lighting. Sharp tongued, willowy and blonde, at one point in my life she was all that I ever wanted to be. However, if there was one thing Petunia cared about more than her family, it was what others thought of her. Soon enough, her tolerance for my freak-tendencies began to dwindle as well.

Then along came Severus Snape. He, admittedly, was the farthest person from the top of my 'favourite person' list at the time, but that was a (disaster of a) story that is bound to come up later. Can you imagine feeling so alone in your own home, with your own parents and your own sister, then suddenly having a (at least, the way my pre-teen mind decided to see it) dark knight ride in and answer every question you ever needed answered? Can you imagine what that does to a little girl?

His idea of the world made me think I was normal. Little did I know that even in a world of magic, I'd still be considered different. I was trapped in the crossfire of two worlds: a witch was a bad thing to be in the Muggle world, and a muggleborn was a bad thing to be in the Wizarding world - I was both.

And the problem with being in-between is that you spend most of your life trying to achieve something - _anything - _that might prove yourself. I am nothing if not stubborn. My mother once called pride the bittersweet sin. And Merlin, if the magic world wouldn't accept me for who my parents were, I'd prove a point. I'd make myself better than them.

Hence the endless nights of studying and slow development of my obsessive-compulsive studying tendencies. In hindsight, this plan probably wasn't my finest.

And that tale of biblical proportions brought me to this moment - fighting against a panic attack at the thought of _getting everything I'd ever worked for_. Because, still after eleven years and every attempt to make a point, the concept of being different absolutely terrified me.

Merlin help me.

"Lily?"

I hadn't realized I was half falling out of the window until Ambria grabbed my arm.

Concern etched itself across my blue-haired friend's face. "Is everything okay? It wasn't the thought of centaur abuse, was it? Because I know it is an awful crime and sometimes I feel like jumping out of a window too, but suicide isn't the answer."

_Centaur crime? _Honestly, the loons that call themselves my friends. I bit back a laugh, and tried to cover my amusement. "I'm fine. Perfectly fine. The excitement was getting to my head, that's all."

Yeah, right.

"Well of course it was! This is what you've always wanted!"

_Don't remind me_. She plopped herself back onto the bed with a satisfied smile. "Who do you think Head Boy will be?"

If I said a name didn't pop into my head right at that exact moment, you might as well have strung me to a post and charmed LIAR in big fat, red letters across my face. But I wasn't about to tell her that.

"Remus?" she continued, now pointing her wand to charm her fingernails to bear a charming scene of daisy fields.

I pursed my lips thoughtfully. "I don't know. I have a hard time believing any of _that lot _being trusted, no matter how responsible Remus might have been as a prefect."

'That lot' being the spawn of Satan himself. No, really. The Marauders were the last people I wanted to spend access to a common room with. It isn't that I didn't like Remus - in fact, I thought he was a really good mate - but where one of the Marauders go, the rest of them do.

_And what sort of bloody name is the Marauders anyway?_

"It'd be brilliant if he was thought, wouldn't it?" Ambria continued, with a dreamy look crossing her eyes. For the past couple of years, I had nursed a suspicion that Ambria might have developed just a little crush on the sanest (at least, in my opinion) Marauder.

And considering his mysterious illness that gets him out of class so much, Ambria was possibly the perfect girl for him. She was practically _born _for a lost cause.

"Yeah," I mused, realizing I hadn't said something for a few moments. "Brilliant."

"What about Theodore Thompkins? He's the top of his class in Ravenclaw, and he's the seeker on their Quidditch team."

"Do you reckon they really take Quidditch into consideration?" I asked.

For that, I received a degrading look. "McGonagall is in charge of the Head Students - _of course _Quidditch is going to be taken into consideration. The woman lives for the game. It might be Martin Lockhart."

"The Hufflepuff?"

Ambria nodded decisively, her blue curls bouncing. "Yes, the Hufflepuff. So now we have a Gryffindor candidate, a Ravenclaw candidate and a furry little badger. What about Slytherin?"

I _really _didn't want to think about that one. Probably because there was two potential choices. First, the boy who I was desperately hoping it was, and second, the boy I desperately wished would disappear from the face of the planet. Knowing my luck, it would be the latter. I would rather have an unfortunate experience with a Hippogriff than be partnered with Severus Snape.

"Well, there's You-Know-Who," I murmured, suddenly distracted with a piece of lint on my pyjamas. Hey - give a girl a break. It isn't everyday you go from worshipping the ground someone walks on, to wanting the Giant Squid to gobble them up.

Ambria's face fell into a contemplative frown. "Oh. Well, what are the chances? One out of four. Twenty five percent. Did you know there's only a twenty five percent chance of being drowned by the Giant Squid?"

_How fitting_. "It could be Asher," I suggested hopefully. Though, you know, not too hopefully. I didn't want her to (correctly) guess that I had just a _little _bit of thing for the bloke. I mean, with his tanned skin and caramel coloured eyes and dark, thick hair—

"Zabini?" she replied, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Well, I suppose that makes the chances even lower. Besides, how often do you hear about someone even _seeing _the Giant Squid?"

I didn't bother mentioning our dear friend Charlie's alleged incident with a tentacle at the end of last year. Less than one quarter chance still turned my insides to jelly. Or even worse - the thought of Sev sharing a common room with me, bringing back all those old memories…

"Whoever it is," I managed quickly, wanting to divert the subject before I did something stupid like _cry, "_I'm sure they'll be good. McGonagall probably takes this more seriously than she does Gryffindor's Quidditch tactics."

Ambria snorted, "Yeah right."

We fell into a silence. It wasn't really comfortable or awkward, more… thoughtful. It lasted a few minutes, me battling with scenarios involving both Severus and Asher and her thinking about… well, something probably to do with magical creature rights, before Ambria finally spoke up.

"Hey, do you think the Sorting Hat feels violated?"

* * *

**Sunday 7th August, 1977; **Spinner's End, Cokeworth, England.

You know, for a day in early August, this Sunday turned out to be rather dull. The sun barely made an appearance, hiding behind the smoky grey clouds that streaked across the sky. It was somewhat warm, but I had a suspicion that as soon as I stepped out of the door, those patient clouds would unleash their watery wrath.

Because good luck, good weather and a good mood all in one day was completely unrealistic. Especially if your name was Lily Grace Evans.

"So, are you sure you don't want to tell the others?" Ambria asked, winding a rather bright (and horrid, but I wouldn't tell her that) orange scarf around her neck. Today, she had elected to charm her hair a shocking shade of red. Something to do with supporting the 'Mermaid Modesty' group who had planned a protest outside the Ministry that afternoon. She looked, putting itin the nicest way possible, like a volcanic disaster.

I inspected myself in the mirror. "I'm quite sure," I replied. On days where the Fates enjoyed tormenting me - read: every day - it was difficult to choose what to wear. I guarantee that if I chose to wear shorts, a surprise blizzard would make an appearance. If I wrapped up in my favourite red coat, it would be twenty-six degrees. There was always the question of whether or not to bring an umbrella; something easily solved with a water repellent charm, but made difficult with us walking through highly Muggle populated streets. A lack of umbrella and unusually dry hair would seem just a _little _suspicious.

"But Marlene would be so excited for you!" Ambria protested, the tips of her hair flaring brighter as she did. "And Charlie— well, Charlie is only ever excited about Quidditch, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't want to know that you're Head Girl!"

"_No," _I said pointedly. "Not yet. Besides, we'll go see Marlene at Florean Fortesque's and what do you bet that Sirius will be hanging off of her for free ice cream?"

"I'll bet you a sickle," she grinned. "I still don't understand why that means Charlie and Marlene shouldn't know."

I sighed. Sometimes I wished Ambria wasn't so involved in trying to make things better. It would make my life a lot easier. "Because I don't know who Head Boy is yet," I reasoned, "and if it isn't Remus, I don't want you and Marlene rubbing it in his face with your excitement over me."

"But Remus won't—"

"_Ambria," _I tried my hardest not to snap, I really did. I sent her a slight look. "Enough."

The absolute truth was that I was still trying to come to terms with the idea of being Head Girl. It was turning out to be a rather painfully slow process. For the past two nights I had found myself jolting awake, my chest tight with panic and my breaths as sharp as shards of glass. If this was supposed to be how every Head Girl felt after receiving their letter, I don't know how they bloody survived it.

Ambria was about to open her mouth _again _- obviously unable to understand the word "enough" - when the door swept open ungraciously. With a look on her face as if she'd just stepped into a puddle of sewage, my dear sister stared at me from the doorway.

_Yeah, love you too, Tuney._

"Daddy says he's going to take you to London," she sniffed. Her voice was tight as if she was holding her breath. _Merlin forbid _if she had to breath the same air as us 'freaks'. To be honest, I was surprised she manage to venture into my bedroom at all. I counted this as the third time in the past two months. "Oh, only God knows what the neighbours would say if they looked in and saw _that _walking down the street."

I narrowed my eyes at her as she pointed toward Ambria's hair. On a rare stroke of my luck, my eccentric friend was too busy pouring herself over the latest pamphlet to pay attention.

"Tell him we'll be down in a minute."

Without so much as another indignant sniff, Petunia shut the door firmly behind her. The tension she left behind started to feel rather stifling and I fought the urge to open the window. Sometimes it broke my heart to see her like this - bitter, twisted, and almost unrecognizable - but the pain had, over the years, dulled to an ache not unlike a bout of stomach upset. At least I only had to see her during the summer months.

Ambria looked up from her pamphlet with a somewhat placid look. "She's quite awful, isn't she?"

As much as some part of me screamed to defend my only sister, I had to agree. Since Friday and the _glorious _arrival of my letter, Petunia had gone from ignoring my existence all together (a slight relief) to a constant commentary of malicious jibes. My mother, trying to be the peacekeeper as always, told me it was jealously; a lie that had continued since I was eleven years old. Petunia had missed out on her own opportunity to be Head Girl at St. Katherine's School for Girls, but I didn't really think that was what bothered her. The absolute cherry on top of this disastrous cake was that her boyfriend (or soon-to-be fiance as my sister was so thoroughly convinced) the repulsive Vernon was planning to stay with us in the last week of August.

If it wasn't already painfully obvious, this meant _no magic whatsoever_. You'd think that being in a relationship with the bloke for at least a year, she would have at least _hinted _that her family wasn't quite as normal as she wanted them to be. But no - Petunia wasn't taking that risk until she had secured him with a shiny, diamond ring.

Sometimes the word _gold digger _springs to mind.

Despite their differences, they were, from what I could tell, perfect for each other. And I don't necessarily mean that in a good way. Where Petunia was thin and body, Vernon was the epitome of round. Round face, round stomach and a pair of round eyes that nearly popped out of his head when he was feeling particularly passionate. Rather amusing, if you ask me. Sometimes my dad and I would have a competition to see how worked up we could get him, but it often ended with one of Tuney's signature shrieks. Then there was the fact he was a constant shade of beetroot, and, despite his round appearance, he had a terribly narrow mind. In all the conversations I had had the misfortune to witness, he only ever talked about three topics: drills, food and himself.

Needless to say, he wasn't exactly headlining the list of my 'favourite people'.

But if Petunia wanted him to marry her, he didn't really have any other choice. She _always _got what she wanted.

"Ignore her," I told Ambria finally, before turning to the mirror again. I settled on a blue striped sweater, a dark denim skirt and tights. "I do."

Ambria made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. As she pushed herself to stand, she tucked her pamphlet into her jacket and walked toward me. She linked her arm through mine and gave me a reassuring smile.

"Come on," she said. "We can probably con a free scoop out of Marlene if we play the sympathy card."

I returned the smile, letting the warmth settle into my body. While Ambria could be an absolute loon sometimes, she was the best friend I had. If she hadn't have been staying with us for the past couple of weeks, I don't know if I would've lasted. Petunia would've had a few things to complain about, that was for sure. Singed hair was slowly creeping to the top of the possibilities.

I let Ambria lead me down the stairs toward my patiently waiting Dad, and half-listened as she rambled on about the inner workings of a car - "I can't believe it just goes on its own! Like _magic_ but not!". Deep in the back of my head head, my thoughts twisted together and slowly knots began to form in my stomach. Seeing my friends was going to be good - it had to be, right? - but from what Marlene had told me, they had been hanging out an awful lot with the Marauders. And that meant there was a very high chance of seeing one particular face that I _really _didn't want to see today.

_Fantastic._

* * *

**Sunday 7th August, 1977; **Diagon Alley, London, England.

"One scoop," he whined, leaning over the counter like a dog leaning to beg. "Just one little scoop."

I sat in the corner of the booth, poking at my own sundae with a spoon idly and listened to Sirius' moaning. _Ambria owed me a sickle_.

Marlene scowled at him, her blonde eyebrows drawing together. "No, Sirius, I've already given you one for the past three days. You _have _money, I know you do."

Sirius gave a quick glance around and, like the typical pain in the neck that he was, launched himself over the counter. Marlene let out an incredulous 'hey!' as he wound his arms around her waist. Honestly, if I didn't know Marlene better than I knew the back of my own hand, I'd think the pair fancied the pants off of each other. "Please? I'll do whatever you want. Besides, if I spend that money, I won't have anymore, would I? Where's the fun in that?"

"Get off of me, Black or I swear to Merlin—"

He simply grinned at the ice cream spoon pointed threateningly in his face. "You'll snog me senseless. Honestly, Triple M, get a hold of yourself!"

Marlene and I rolled our eyes simultaneously. Triple M had been a nickname Sirius had come up with in our fourth year - where it came from, I had no idea.

Ambria sat across from me, in a passionate discussion about magical animal rights with a rather uncomfortable looking Remus.

"It's ridiculous! Half-breeds, excuse my derogatory term, are just as entitled to education as anyone else! What about werewolves? Are they not part human too?"

For some reason, with each word, Remus' face grew paler and paler as he politely shook his head. I didn't blame him - conversations with Ambria can sometimes be unnerving to the point of nausea.

"I'm rather… indifferent," he said uneasily.

"_Indifferent?" _

Before Ambria could set off into an incredulous ramble, a sharp yelp from behind the counter pulled all of our attention toward Marlene. Sirius, now lamely clutching the counter to keep upright, spouted a stream of very creative curses.

Honestly, is language like that even _legal_?

"Watch your mouth, Black." Marlene smiled sweetly. "You'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

"I don't want flies," he groaned, still clutching his side. "I want ice cream! And that _really _hurt."

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, Sirius, how old are you? Five?"

He narrowed his grey eyes in my direction. "Watch yourself, Evans, or I'll—" He cut off as the door swung open, the little bell above it tinging to announce someone's arrival. Whoever it was sent a mischievous grin across Sirius' face.

_Oh bloody hell. _

If it wasn't the one and only prat himself - James Potter. He sauntered toward the counter, grinning at his injured best friend and (irritatingly) ran his hand through his hair. "McKinnon, why do you constantly insist on beating up my beater?"

"Because he's a sodding git, that's why. He's going to cost me my job!"

Sirius pushed himself from the counter in a sudden and miraculous recovery. He grabbed Marlene's free hand and spun her around gallantly.

"Then marry me, my love," he exclaimed, "and I shall shower you in my endless fortune and you will need a job no longer!"

She let out a hiss and tugged her hand abruptly from his, earning laughs from both Sirius and James. "_Get out_."

James - Prat Number One - let out another chuckle before turning to the table. His eyes drifted casually over Ambria and Remus. "Stretton, looking fluorescent as always," he nodded.

"Do you like it?" she grinned, pulling her long hair over her shoulder. "I'm going to chain myself to the Ministry later today - would you like to come?"

"Er, sounds charming, love," he replied, "but I've got other plans. Saving the world with Quidditch, you know."

Ambria shrugged. "Fine. I was going to offer you free food."

"Free food?" Sirius slid enthusiastically into the booth next to her, slinging his arm over her shoulder. Oh _Merlin_. What was it with boys and food? "Ambria, my darling, you're looking awfully beautiful today."

"Five seconds ago you were proposing to Marlene," I put in sceptically.

"Well, I've seen the light and who I _truly _love is Ambria."

James snickered. "Who you truly love is your gut. Move over."

Remus, Ambria and Sirius shifted up the seat until Remus was almost pressed into the window, which left me sitting all alone on the other side.

Pointing that out would probably encourage Potter to move next to me, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Moony, my man," James grinned toward his friend. "Only a couple of more nights, eh?"

Remus scowled - not a proper scowl, but more like a scowl that had been worn into a look of defeat. "James."

Prat Number One threw his hands up in defense as Sirius - Prat Number Two - reached for my melted puddle of ice-cream. "There's a good girl, Evans! See, Marlene, Lily _shares_."

If you could call having the sundae that I had been ignoring for the past ten minutes ripped from under my chin _sharing_, then sure. Marlene simply made a disgruntled noise from behind the counter and continued in her cleaning.

"Oh, I didn't see you there, Evans," James suddenly grinned. Oh, yeah, right. Like after six years of pointing out my 'beacon' of a red-head, you suddenly miss me. "Which is surprising, considering your hair is so lovely and alight this morning."

Ah, there we go. I should have known it was coming eventually.

I gave him my best, fear-inducing scowl. "Sod off, Potter."

"Alright children, let's behave," Sirius grinned, idly playing with the ends of Ambria's orange scarf. His chin dripped slightly with what was previously my ice cream. "We're supposed to be having a nice family outing."

_Was he delusional?_ If we were a family, we were the most mismatched, dysfunctional unit I had ever seen. No, thanks. I'll keep to my nice, normal Muggle family.

"I said your hair looked _lovely,_" James protested. He gave me a pointed look. "I haven't even said anything _bad _yet!"

"Precisely - _yet," _I replied. "Though I don't understand how you think calling my hair _alight _is a compliment."

He simply grinned. "As in alight in the beautiful rays of the sun!"

Merlin, please help me control myself before I hex this boy into oblivion. Honestly, could you be more _arrogant? _

Remus rubbed his forehead tiredly and looked over at James. "I see you're not wearing your badge today."

_Badge? What badge?_

Prat Number One searched his shirt now, patting himself down as he did. "Oh, no. Doesn't look like it."

It must have been his Quidditch Captain badge, right? He never took that bloody thing off. It was like how he ran his hand through his hair purposely to make himself have that stupid dishevelled look. The boy was in a state of constant showing off, and his Quidditch Captain badge only made his job easier.

"Looks like a sign!" Sirius cried, his voice full of dramatic joy. "No badge, no new common room! The boy stays with us!"

He raised the empty sundae glass with a sound of cheers - a gesture none of us repeated. What did he mean _new common room? _

No. _Absolutely not. _It can't— no, he can't be. No one in their right mind would—

Sirius yelped as James hit him upside the head and shoving his hand into his friend's pocket. "Found it," James grumbled half-heartedly, before pulling out a shiny gold badge.

A badge that looked very similar to my own.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, please Merlin, no. _

Head Boy? Potter? Was Hogwarts going absolutely insane? The boy hadn't even been a prefect! He had _no _sense of responsibility! I bet he could barely tie his own shoes. How on earth was this boy supposed to be _any _sort of role model? He locked four first years in one knight armour back in third year! _Four first years! _In one body!

"Lily?" Remus' voice made me jump slightly. He frowned at me across the table, concern etching his slightly scarred face. "Are you quite alright? You look pale."

Was I alright? _Was I alright? _No, Remus John Lupin, I was not _alright_. First of all the boy of my dreams was clearly not given the position of Head Boy. All of my common room fantasies of sitting with Asher Zabini by the roaring fire had vanished. Second of all, he was replaced by the last person I would _ever _want to share a common room with. Well, maybe not the _last _(hello Severus Snape) but he was fairly high on the list.

But, really, who would choose Potter? As if he'd take the job seriously. He'd take it as a joke.

_Wait. _That was it. It _had _to be.

"Is this a joke?" I asked quietly, looking James straight on. His eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing under that stupid mop of hair.

Ambria looked at me sharply. "_Lily!" _she said reproachfully.

So, maybe that was a little rude. By the way he was looking at me, I almost felt bad too. But then he covered his hurt frown with one of his trademark cocky grins. _Bad feelings - gone. _

"No, it isn't." Leaning forward onto the table, he rested his chin in his hand. I had to admit, he was very good at recovering. "Does that impress you, Evans?"

"Yes," I blurted. Not that I meant I was impressed _by him_, but that I was impressed that anyone so self-obsessed could be considered for the job.

He, obviously, took it the other way.

"No!" I stammered, "I didn't mean— I meant that, you know… it was…"

"You're impressed," he continued to grin, "by _me_. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!"

If I could've been swallowed up by the floor at the moment, I would've charmed it myself. But Fate never played in my favour. James pushed himself abruptly from the booth and clambered onto the table.

"_Get down!" _I hissed, grabbing at his ankles. Deftly jumping above my attempts, he continued to wear that stupid, prattish grin and gain the attentions of the rest of the parlour.

Sirius and Ambria set into a bout of uncontrollable laughter - a display of their insanity, I assume - while Remus simply shook his head. From behind the counter, Marlene started shouting various curse words which, even without James' stunningly stupid performance, would get her fired.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the prat in question began, clearing his throat dramatically. "I would like to announce that today has been a turn in history. For you see, this lovely young lady," he waved his hand in my general direction - _kill me now_, "has finally come to her senses! She's _impressed_by me!"

"Potter, I swear to Merlin, if you don't get down right now, I'll—"

"You'll be so overcome with awe of my talents that you'll have no other choice but to jump me right here, right now?"

How was it even humanly possible to be so full of yourself? Surely his head must have come close to exploding at least _once _his in lifetime.

Letting out a frustrated noise in the back of my throat, I glared at my so-called friends who were still cackling away, in hopes that one of them would get him down. I had no such luck. Desperately I looked over at Marlene who looked as peeved as I was.

"Do something!" she mouthed at me angrily, waving her ice-cream scoop around violently in the air. _Do something? Me? _In what universe did James Potter _ever _listen to me? Especially when I was trying to stop him from taking the opportunity to embarrass me publicly.

I opened my mouth to respond when James simply dropped with a thud into the booth next to me. It hung open as I glared at him, and he took the opportunity to run his fingers under my chin and close it softly.

"Now, now, Evans," he said with a smile, "no need to gawk."

_I was going to bloody murder him. _

Before I could do something perfectly rational - you know, like bite his bloody hand off - Remus spoke up, "James, leave the poor girl alone. You have all year to antagonize her."

Gee, Remus, thanks for that positive reinforcement for his _bad behaviour_. It was like trying to train a bunch of disobedient puppies around here.

"Not necessarily," Prat Number One mused. "With all my Head Boy business, I'll have to cut the luxury of making dear Evans squirm out of my schedule. I'll be much too busy doing important things like deducting points from Slytherin for being slimy or wooing the Head Girl."

"That's a violation of your authority!" I pointed out. "And what makes you think the Head Girl would fall for your bad attempts at being charming? Not every girl at Hogwarts is missing her brain."

Ambria let out a sudden laugh. I kicked her in the shin and sent her a warning look. There was _no way _they were going to find out who exactly Head Girl was right now. Her laugh morphed into a painful groan as she suddenly clutched the table, covering her pain in a bout of coughs.

"What's with wrong you, Stretton?" Sirius asked, frowning at her sudden choking.

James flicked his eyes to her, a calculating smile growing across his lips. "Do you know who Head Girl is?"

_Please, please Merlin and Fates be on my side for once and grant me a loyal best friend. If not, please supply me with the means to end our friendship as soon as she caves in. _

She glanced at me, her blue eyes wide and the tips of her red hair flaring. As subtly as I could possibly be, I shook my head and gave her a look that essentially read "If you value your life, you'll shut up."

"I…" she started, her voice still raspy from coughing. "I don't know. I heard some rumours it was going to be a Ravenclaw."

Oh, yes, thank you Merlin! Thank you Fates!

James and Sirius let out a united groan. "A Ravenclaw?" Prat Number Two said disappointedly, his black curls bouncing animatedly as he did. "Bloody hell, they're no fun."

"There's nothing wrong with a girl who's intelligent," Remus said mildly. I sent him a smile - I knew there was a reason we were friends, despite his choice of constant companionship.

Sirius wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, if you like being constantly graded on your performance." He put on a high pitched and not even remotely realistic feminine voice, "_Did you know that if you tilt your pelvis this way, it'll give you more movement? Oh, no, Sirius, you're doing it wrong! It's not logical for us to do it outside on the Astronomy tower." _

Ugh, how charming.

"Maybe you _were _doing it wrong," Ambria suggested with a shrug. "And the Astronomy tower is a _horrible _place to have a shag. It's so _cold."_

Sirius tightened his arm that was still slung around her shoulder, and grinned. "That's why you've got me. I'll keep you nice and toasty."

"Because that's exactly what every girl dreams of," Marlene jutted in, having finished her shift and slipped into the booth next to James and I. "You, all sweaty and gross on top of her."

Simultaneously, Marlene, Ambria and I shuddered at the thought.

"I don't mind a Ravenclaw, I s'pose," said James after a few thoughtful moments, "They do keep the place tidy."

A slight surge of anger warmed my stomach. "You are an absolute pig, did you know? Besides, I hardly think anyone would want to tidy up _your _mess."

"Defensive," he grinned, nudging his shoulder with mine, "Don't be jealous. There's no girl on Earth that would able to steal me from you. You're the apple of my eye."

Yes, because that's _exactly _what I wanted to be. Not.

Marlene gripped my hand in hers, and gave it a slight squeeze. "Don't worry," she murmured, "all you have to do is survive until the end of the day."

Pfft, yeah. I should be so lucky.

* * *

**Thursday 1st September, 1977; **Platform 9 3/4, London, England.

The platform was smothered in billows of thick steam and weepy parents, clutching to their children as they said there goodbyes. I never let my parents come through the barrier with me in fear that they might not be able to get back through. Still, watching the freshly pressed eleven years olds, shaking with anticipation as they clutched their trunks, I began to miss being young. When I was a First Year, I never had to face anything harder than that overwhelming feeling of homesickness when I got my first care package from Mum. I'd take that feeling over what I was about to face next any day.

I dragged my trunk behind me, purposely slowing myself down as I walked toward the train. The Head Student compartment was a special room reserved near the front of the Hogwarts Express, and from what I had seen of it as a prefect, it was usually quite lovely. Velvet draping hung from the windows, their colours depending on what house the Head Boy and Girl belonged to. Last year it had been medley of soft blues and golden yellows - Victoria Spinett was in Hufflepuff and Raymond Wall was a Ravenclaw. They weren't the best of friends, but they still managed to make it work.

Merlin knows how I was going to attempt that with Potter.

I could see how this was going to play out. James would already be in the compartment, lazily lounged across one of the seats and tossing that stupid snitch up in the air. Why he even had a snitch, I had no idea. The boy was a _chaser. _Not that I was a Quidditch expert - or had an interest in Quidditch whatsoever - I was fairly sure that he didn't interact with the small, golden flying ball at all. I swear, he would show off in any way possible.

Once I read the side of the train and had heaved my trunk onto it (weren't there supposed to be men for that?), I climbed aboard. Pinned to my blouse wasmy Head Girl badge, weighing an absolute ton. I reached for it, running my fingers over the metal just to make sure it was still there. How could I miss it? It was like a boulder against my lungs. The compartment was three doors away from me.

The doorway seemed to tower over me, screaming with the promise of doom and embarrassment. Right now, I was contemplating how much difference in pain it would be to throw myself on the tracks instead of going inside. Not much, I reckoned.

No, I was being a drama queen again. All I needed to do was take a deep breath, straighten up and make James Potter know that I wasn't taking any of hisfunny business. If he thought Head Boy was going to be a get-out-of-jail free card for him and his boisterous mates, he was wrong. He was so bloody wrong.

I reached the door, sliding it back with a determined force, only to find that the compartment was… empty. Where I was sure James would've have been sitting, sat nothing but a pile of parchments - probably information to hand out to the prefects when they arrived. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. I had planned to confront James about working together straight on and now… well, now I had to wait.

Tapping my foot frantically against the plush ruby carpet, I let myself take in the room. This year the velvet drapes were a dark wine colour, embroidered with a delicate gold. The mahogany wood panelling spread over each wall. In the corner of the compartment sat a mahogany service cart laden with various drinks and food. Even in the perfectly comfortable room, my stomach squirmed irritably.

Needless to say, I had never been a very patient person.

But apparently, I didn't have to wait long. As I was staring in disbelief around the compartment, with that uneasy feeling streaming through my veins, I didn't hear the door close gently behind me. Nor did I feel his presence until he spoke.

"Well, well, well," his smarmy voice said, "if it isn't the beautiful Lily Evans."

_Oh bloody hell_.


	3. Of Bad Potter Years

**Chapter two! Finally. That took a lot longer than I had expected. Once again, I want to say a big, big thank you to Tara who beta-ed it, and a HUGE THANKYOU to everyone to reviewed/favourited/alerted. It makes my day. **

**Disclaimer: **Not J.K. Rowling. Yep.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Thursday 1st September 1977; **Hogwarts Express, Somewhere Just Outside London, England.

I seriously needed to sort out my fight-or-flight reaction.

I had to get away. I had to get away from that (horribly tight and claustrophobic) compartment and definitely away from _him_.

Stupid, stupid prat.

I barrelled into the compartment, almost ripping the door from its hinges. From their seats, the three faces of my best friends and dorm-mates stared up at me in bewilderment.

"Easy there, Lils," Marlene grinned, having her feet propped up on her trunk. "I know you missed us but there's no need to destroy the train."

Oh, _ha ha_ McKinnon. Sirius' bad sense of humour seemed to be contagious.

Ambria looked up from braiding red flowers through her naturally blonde hair - obviously she was having a day off from rallying. She frowned at me. "Shouldn't you be…?"

"Oh, aye, as if they would'nae be able to charm it back on." Charlie sat in the corner of the compartment, burying her head of vast brown curls in a copy of some Quidditch magazine.

Despite being relatively short, Charlotte Peace made up for it with her killer punch. While I tried to defend my Muggleborn status through besting everyone in class, Charlie had more _physical _solutions to the matter. Pair that with her being the only daughter after three older sons, and you had one heck of a beater.

And, as it well known in the isles of Britannia, Scots are known for their violence.

"Well, do _you _know how to charm hinges back on?" Marlene asked pointedly, tilting her head. She wrinkled her nose as she took in the cover of Charlie's magazine. "Oh, _Charlotte_, not the Glasgow Grindylows again. They're _rubbish_."

Before the pair of them could start into one of their infamous arguments on who was the better Quidditch team, featuring an outburst from Charlie due to Marlene's use of her full name, I felt a bubbling rise in my throat.

Merlin, I was going to be sick, wasn't I? Oh, no, it was worse. It was much worse.

"_I'm Head Girl," _I blurted out suddenly. My arms jerked out suddenly and I grabbed the side of the wall for support. As always, a surprise attack usually worked when diffusing those arguments.

Charlie, who was about to open her mouth and refute Marlene's insult, snapped her head to me with a frown. A flower dropped from Ambria's grip as she blinked at me. Marlene simply stared.

And there I stood, clinging to the compartment wall for dear life, like a madwoman.

Oh, my stupid, stupid mouth. And stupid, stupid Potter! After all, he was the reason I barged in here in the first place.

It took a few silent and awkward (and terribly long) beats before somebody broke the tension.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting way to tell them," Ambria replied calmly, gently taking the flower to weave back into her head.

_Interesting_?

The other two continued to stare at me, confusion and surprise etched across their features. Flicking her eyes between them, Ambria let out a sigh, "Well, it's not as if it's _that _much of a shock. She's a swot."

_Thanks_. I sent her a not-so-appreciative glare in her direction.

"But…" Marlene started, her brown eyes squinting as she drew her thoughts together. Across from her, Charlie had already gone back to her magazine with a shrug.

I shifted uncomfortably against the wall. "Sorry, I didn't tell you sooner. I was…"

"Nervous?" Ambria offered.

I shook my head.

She tried again. "_Petrified_?"

"No," I said, sending her a slight scowl.

"_Trying to hide it from James." _

Looking over to her voice, I met Marlene's knowing grin.

What? What about Potter?

_What? _

This had nothing to do with him! Well, actually, parts of it had a _lot _to do with him, but that was hardly the point at present. I simply frowned at her.

She continued with her grin still plastered stupidly across her face. "The first time you saw me in the summer was when you came to work that time."

"What about it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes flashed with a smug amusement. "That was the day we all found out that James was going to be Head Boy. You would have gotten your letters the same day."

"Yes, and?"

"_And," _she replied, pointing her finger in mock accusation toward me, "you didn't tell us because then James would know and he wouldn't leave you alone for the rest of the summer! No wonder you just about choked on your own tongue when he told us!"

Oh, I did _not _choke on my own tongue. I barely looked frazzled.

"Yes, you did turn a little purple," Ambria added thoughtfully.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

Marlene shook her head gently. Her smile was soft, like she was dealing with a small child. "But you don't fool me, Lily Grace Evans. I know you enjoy his constant pestering."

Like Devil's Snare enjoys the bloody sun.

"I do _not._" I managed to loosen my iron grip on the wall and dropped into the compartment chair. "And bloody hell, now I have got to deal with him all _year_."

"Don't forget the shared common room," Ambria so helpfully reminded me, earning an excited cackle from Marlene. Honestly, for someone who claims to be one of my best friends, she takes the opportunity to torture me far too often.

"So, when were you planning on telling us?" Marlene continued.

Good question. I had deliberated writing, but anything written to Marlene had a very high chance of being read by a certain boy with the last name Black. That same boy had an unusually big mouth and couldn't keep a secret to save his life. Besides, I didn't want Marlene to know and Charlie not to. I thought it would much easier to tell them both in person.

Eventually, I replied, "I… don't know."

Marlene gasped dramatically. "You were just going to let us figure it out once we got to school, weren't you?"

Honestly, these girls were supposed to be my best friends but they were doing an awful job at showing it. Did she not trust me? Did she think so lowly of me? What kind of friend would I be if I let them find out that way?

"_Probably,"_ I mumbled, shrugging.

Oh. Well, I guess that settled it then. I was a terrible kind of friend.

I watched her as she settled back into the seat, shaking her head in disappointment. Charlie, on the other hand, looked like she couldn't care less. Sometimes I considered bumping her up to being my favourite best friend - it was quite nice to have someone who didn't interfere with my life and _left me alone_ - but then I realized I actually valued my life. With Ambria's passionate aggression and Marlene's particular talent when it came to the Jelly-Legs Jinx, it was better to have them on my good side.

Ambria glanced at her watch and looked up at me. "Shouldn't you be back at your compartment? Remus was getting ready for the prefect meeting about ten minutes ago."

I let out a groan. But, _of course_. It only made sense that I would be late to the first official prefect meeting and therefore sending my reputation as Head Girl into an abyss of doom before we even arrived at the castle.

James' smug grin flashed across the back of my eyelids as I imagined walking into the meeting late. Oh, perfect. What an excellent start to the year.

Note to Lily: _oblivate_ yourself at your earliest convenience.

"Lily, you're mutterin' to yoursel' again," Charlie pointed out, barely looking up from her magazine. Ambria and Marlene exchanged an amused look.

"It's a Bad Potter Day!" they chorused.

Apparently muttering to myself had been a bad habit that I developed whenever I was having a "Bad Potter Day." Personally, I thought every day that involved James was a bad one, but my friends had brought it upon themselves to name the worst of them.

This included the day he set my thirty-inch Potions essay on fire twenty minutes before it was due, the day he turned my hair a shocking shade of purple (although, technically that was classified as a _week_) and, of course, today.

Why don't we just call this one a Bad Potter Year, eh?

I pushed myself up from the chair, rubbing my temples. "If I don't see you at the Feast, it means I've thrown myself out of the moving train."

"Or that James has finally made you see sense and you're off snogging in a broom cupboard," Marlene suggested.

Sometimes Marlene's mutual friendship with both James and myself made me want to punch her in the face. In the most loving way possible, of course.

"Don't count on that," I replied, sending her a quick scowl, "_ever_."

* * *

**Thursday 1st September 1977; **Head Student Compartment, Hogwarts Express, Somewhere in the British Countryside.

From how many shadows I could see through the closed blinds of the Head Student compartment, it was fairly obvious that I was the last to arrive. Which, of course, had to be a first for me.

The door creaked as I slid it open, and twenty-five pairs of eyes looked in my direction. I met the twenty-fifth gaze with my own; the hazel eyes which I expected to be lit with triumph held nothing but a sort-of polite happiness.

Hold on a second. I knew better than to think his behaviour was strange. The gloating was bound to come soon enough.

"And here she is, the lady of the hour!" he said, grinning at me. With no intention of sharing his happy sentiments, I sent him a confused frown as I edged by through the crowd to his side. "I was just telling everyone how you were off finishing off some pre-term Head Girl duties. Did you finish them alright?"

Okay, now it was time to get a little confused. I stared at him as if he had grown a second head. Pre-term Head Girl duties? Was he having a laugh? Maybe it was some ploy to set me up and cut me down in front of everyone.

That wouldn't surprise me.

"Lily?"

His voice cut into my startled daze, and I realized I had been staring at him for longer than what was socially acceptable. Which, considering our volatile relationship, was probably doubly unacceptable.

I cleared my throat. "Yes, thank you." I couldn't help keep the skepticism from my voice as I turned toward the rest of the prefects.

"Great." His knees jiggled slightly as he reached for the pile of parchment on our compartment's table. I let my gaze slip back to him as he began to hand a piece to each prefect. Scanning the crowd, I studied the choices for the prefects this year.

After all, Potter might not have been the only unorthodox choice.

From Hufflepuff, the seventh year choices weren't surprising. Martin Lockhart had been a prefect with me since fifth year, and despite the Hufflepuff ideal of humility, he had enough of an ego for the whole house. Maisie Wood, on the other hand, was the sweetest girl I had ever come across. With her petite figure, short mousy brown curls and round face, it was hard to think she was capable of anything selfish. Together, they seemed to balance each other out, which is probably why they were the longest running functional relationship Hogwarts had ever seen.

Except for maybe Filch and Mrs. Norris. Now _that's _true love.

Ravenclaw was equally predictable. Theodore Thompkins, another of Ambria's theoretical candidates for Head Boy (yeah, the girl was _far _off) was the male choice in seventh year. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome with these crystalline grey eyes that sent a lot of the female student population into puddles of mush. In the unspoken list of good-looking blokes, he had to be coming at least third. Unfortunately for him, he fell behind both James and Sirius, which led me to believe that my fellow young women were far from sane. It seemed that they were all helpless to the charms of a broom.

The choice for the female Ravenclaw was equally as pretty. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I would think that Cressida Law and Theodore were twins. Then again, the Sorting Hat had been known to be very selective when it came to Ravenclaw students when it came to brains _and _beauty.

"Uh, from what I can tell this is a list of prefect duties and whatnot," James said vaguely, squinting at the parchment in his own hand. "Right, Evans?"

Oh wonderful; this was how the year was going to play out. Either Potter was going to mess up the whole system or spend his time relying on me to give him a clue.

"Right," I said.

He gave me a grin. "Right!" His eyes scanned it, the grin dropping from his face. "Oh, bloody hell, this is a lot."

The prefects let out a collective murmur of laughter as I tried to stop my rolling eyes. "Of course, it's a lot," I muttered, flicking through my own parchment. "It's a lot of responsibility. Aren't you allergic to that?"

Before he could open his mouth and retort in a way I'm sure he thought was hilariously witty (and probably wasn't), Remus stepped in, "Lily, you forget that James is Quidditch Captain. That's responsibility."

_Oh, Mr. Lupin, you don't know how tempted I am to reconsider our friendship. _

"Yeah," James agreed, a smug grin nestled on his lips. "I get myself out of bed at five in the morning every day. I bet you can barely get up at 8."

"_Actually—" _Well, actually he was right. It _was _hard to get up for breakfast at eight. But _come on_! I slept in the same dormitory as Ambria, the girl with a compulsive need to play tribal music until one in the morning to balance her karma or something. I had an excuse to sleep.

"When you two are quite finished with your pathetic squabbling, can we get on with it?"

I turned toward the voice; without looking I could have told you who the cool, sharp tone belonged to. Antonia Zabini raised a perfectly charmed eyebrow in our direction, contempt colouring her amber eyes. For someone who looked so warm, with her bronze skin and inky mane of hair, it was almost startling how glacial her personality could be.

It was also startling that someone so harsh could be the biological counterpart to what I believed was Adonis reincarnated. Asher and Antonia were quite literally fire and ice.

James looked to me, amused. "Yes, are you quite finished Lily?"

_Sweet, sweet Merlin, please give me the strength not to murder the boy in his sleep._

Simply turning back to Antonia, I cleared my throat. "The patrolling roster for the first term will be handed out early next week."

Various prefects exchanged glances, the subtle looks of organizing their pairing. The Gryffindor Fifth Year prefects even went as far as clutching at each others' arms.

"Don't," I continued, shuffling my own parchments, "think you'll be automatically paired with your House partners. Due to conflicting schedules, you may be paired with prefects from different houses, and even different years."

James piped up. "Yeah, you're supposed to be doing the busting up of snogging, not joining the ranks yourselves." He flashed a grin at a couple of the Fifth Year girls who let out a giggle. "Unless you're really, really good at multitasking."

I rolled my eyes. "Moving on," I said pointedly.

The rest of the meeting proceeded as it already had; I rolled my eyes so many times I could practically see the back of my skull, while James shamelessly flirted and occasionally jabbed me with some antagonistic quip. By the end of it I could barely hear anything through the thumping in my forehead.

"Er, any questions?" James asked as the prefects started to pull themselves together. There was a non-committal murmur as they pushed to leave, probably eager to tackle the trolley lady and gorge themselves before tonight's feast. If I wasn't battling with a creeping nausea in my stomach, I would have probably been in the same boat.

I was about to slump into the seat when I saw a particular prefect had lingered back.

_Oh buggering shit_.

Why did he have to have such a talent of blending in? I hadn't noticed him the whole meeting, too consumed by my struggles of _not _strangling his rival in the lead for my least favourite person. He stood half in the compartment doorway, as if he wasn't quite sure whether to stay or go.

If he asked me, I'd tell him the latter.

"Meeting's over, Snape," James said, dropping into the seat I was initially aiming for. He kicked his legs up onto the small table, crossing at his ankles. If I didn't have such a throbbing headache, nauseous stomach and chest constricted with panic, I probably would have told him off. "You can run along now."

Severus' eyes narrowed in James' direction, they're charcoal flashing in hatred. He didn't say anything, which wasn't unusual, but I could have sworn I saw his hand twitch toward his wand.

Not good.

"Is there something that you want?" I tried to keep my voice soft and polite; if he was going to be a prefect, I might as well try to practice indifference. As long as I ignored that sharp swelling mixture of betrayal and panic in my chest whenever I saw him, I would be just fine.

He looked back to me, and his expression softened. It wasn't quite the hopeless, apologetic look that had schooled his features for the whole of last year, but it still tugged at my heart. Part of me wanted to forgive him, then part of me wanted him to disappear altogether.

"Could we… talk?" Casting a quick glance at James, he strode toward me as if to talk about something private. He lowered his voice, "Please?"

There was a silence as the carriage continued to rattle around us, the thudding of the wheels perfectly in time with the pounding in my head. I swallowed back, fighting against the sudden lump in my throat. From beside me James' judging gaze practically burned into my skin.

Talk? As far as I was concerned, I'd said all I had to say. He was the one person who led me to believe I wouldn't be different when I came to Hogwarts, and the first to prove that I was. Even to him. He - and everyone else - might have thought all he did wrong was say that awful word, but it was much bigger than that. It was so much bigger that I had trouble putting it into words.

I let out a slight nod. "What would you like to discuss?"

Severus' gaze slipped in James' direction again. "Something that should be discussed alone."

I followed his look with my own, and studied the lounging Head Boy. Potter simply shrugged, a lazy grin stretching across his face. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving her alone with the likes of you - if the lady wants to talk, she'll make the choice to leave."

Oh bloody hell, was that protectiveness rising up again? I battled with the feeling. I couldn't decide whether I was relieved that Potter might help me out of this or angry that he was trying to play the knight in shining armour.

Because, honestly, if I trusted him to whisk me away on a white horse, I'd probably fall off and he'd leave me behind. Not that I'd even considered picturing him as Prince Charming.

I could see the vein bobbing gently in Severus' temple; that was his tell sign for whenever James, or any of the other Marauders were pushing him to the point of rage. I stepped in, knowing my head would explode if I let them at each other.

"Let's just step outside then, yeah?" I said.

Dragging his angry scowl from James with a noticeable effort, Severus turned and stalked out into the corridor. I followed. As I shut the door behind me, I tried to ignore James' fiercely protective look.

I turned toward my former best friend expectantly.

He let out an audible breath which shook his whole chest. "Lily, listen to me, alright? Just listen."

"I _am _listening," I said, slightly irritated that he wasn't really appreciative of the time I was giving him. I could have stayed with Potter and sent the boy packing.

"Good," he replied, his voice level and his black eyes meeting mine. There was another tense moment of silence before he spoke again, "I missed you this summer."

Oh, no. Suddenly, I wished very, very much that I had been somewhat traitorous to myself and stayed in the compartment. This was the last conversation I ever wanted to have.

I stayed silent, attempting to keep my eyes firmly on his and willing my hands not to tremble so much.

He cleared his throat, covering the awkward moment that my reply was intended to fill. "I missed you, and you know that's… that's hard for me to say." His voice was tight and sharp, like a violin string threatening to snap. "I don't know how many times I have to say sorry for you to forgive me."

"It isn't about saying sorry, Severus."

"Then what is it about?" he asked, a mix of indignation and desperation leaking into his words. Honestly, I could feel my body leaning back toward the compartment door, longing to be back inside and away from this. Every one of his words sent a conflicting sensation through me; should I be angry or heartbroken? Either way, it hurt.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. Maybe if I blocked out his face, and his pleading eyes, I could focus on giving him a straight and calm answer. "It isn't about anything anymore," I replied, my own voice as tense as his.

He stepped closer to me, and I flinched. Either he didn't notice or he didn't care, because he still reached for my wrist. "Lily, this is important," he said as his pale fingers curled around my skin. It burned at his touch, sending a shivering sensation through my arm that made me want to turn and run. "If you don't forgive me, I can't…"

Opening my eyes, I shot him an expectant look to what was coming next. When nothing came, I rubbed my forehead - half in frustration, half trying to soften the pain.

Merlin, it was really getting bad.

"You can't _what_?" I snapped, sharper than I had really wanted to. But really, my head hurt, my stomach was rolling about and I really, _really _needed to nap.

"I can't tell you." Running his hand through his long hair (which looked in need of a cut, if I was being really honest), he just looked at me. Like, really looked at me. "Trust me, though. It's important for us to… for you to forgive me."

I frowned at him. Did he really expect me to forgive him due to this so-called importance, for a reason that he wouldn't even tell me? As sincere as he may have sounded, that wasn't going to happen.

Letting out a sigh, I said, "It is far from easy to forgive you Severus. I'm not angry anymore, but that doesn't mean we can just jump back into being best friends again. I don't want to do that - I _can't _do that. Not unless you tell me what's going on."

I knew he was hiding something. Something big. I could tell by the way his eyes shifted and narrowed, concealing most of the white and leaving orbs blacker than the night sky. He would be a good keeper of secrets if it wasn't for his eyes. But then again, maybe I was the only one who ever noticed.

And it was clear that he wasn't planning on telling me what he was hiding anytime soon.

"Can't you just leave it?" Severus asked exasperatedly. His fingers tugged anxiously at the hem of his jumper. Another tell sign of his. Part of me wanted to let it go; would that have made things easier? I wondered, then, if that was part of the problem. I wondered if ignorance was truly bliss, and by simply being Severus' friend again I might be obliviously happy.

But things were never as simple as that.

I drew myself up with a breath, filling my chest, and exhaled all of my feelings out with it. "No, I can't."

As if crumpling a parchment, his pale features pulled together in an expression that practically sent me taking back my words. He looked at me as if I had told him something ridiculous; as if I had wished for his death.

I chose my next words carefully, and said quietly, "Friendships aren't about secrets. Your new friends…" his eyes flashed with a subtle anger, as they always did whenever we argued about his recent company, "aren't honest people, and neither are you. It might be important that I forgive you, but it's also important that I trust you. And I can't, not unless you stop hiding things from me."

Another silence. Thicker and tenser than last time. He finally dropped his gaze from mine, sending a flood of relief through my body. One more moment of his burning stare and I might have resorted to tears. He fiddled with his jumper for a few seconds before looking back to me.

"You're making the wrong choice," he said, lowly. And with that, he spun around, in all his graceful lithe, and stalked down the corridor into the next carriage. I stared after him, head pounding and heart hammering, and replayed his last words in my head.

The wrong choice… He thought I was making the wrong choice. Hot exasperation warmed my stomach as I indignantly pulled myself together and turned back to the compartment. So what if I was making the wrong choice?

At least it was my choice to make.

* * *

**Thursday 1st September 1977; **Head Student Compartment, Hogwarts Express, Somewhere in the British Countryside.

When I walked back into the compartment, I expected James to be doing something ridiculously Potter-ish like napping or gorging himself on sweets. However, what I walked into was nothing of the sort; he sat in the chair as rigid as a wand, dressed neatly (or as close to neat as he could get, I suppose) in his uniform with his badge pressed to his robes.

I blinked at him. "You changed."

He looked up from the piece of parchment he was studying and gave me a lopsided smile. "Didn't know you took that much notice in my appearance, Evans."

Ugh, of course. Nothing I said could pass by without an (apparently) witty comment. I rubbed my eyes; my head was still killing me. The conversation with Severus hadn't exactly helped.

He continued to study me through his somewhat wonky glasses. Everything about Potter seemed to have an air of haphazard messiness about it. It matched his reckless personality fittingly.

"Not now, Potter," I muttered, slumping into the seat across from him. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head backward, trying to block out everything and steady the thumping in my head. Mercifully, Potter stayed quiet for a few minutes.

Though, of course, it was _only _for a few minutes.

"I thought you and Snape weren't friends anymore," he said. There was a hint of something in his voice, some foreign emotion smothered underneath his obvious curiosity. Whatever it was, I knew I didn't want to have this conversation.

Pointedly, hoping he'd get the bloody message, I crossed my arms over my face. "Not _now_. I'm trying to sleep."

He made a murmured sound which I assume accompanied one of his casual shrugs.

_Good._ Now I could get some peace. Nothing but the sound of the wheels against the track filled the compartment air.

I dropped my arms from my face, moving my fingers to work gently into my temples. After a while, (I didn't know how long it was; ten minutes? Twenty?), the thudding began to dull to a soft ache and a heaviness took over my eyelids. I pressed my back further into the plush chair, eager for the blissful darkness of sleep to pull me under.

And just as the tendrils of darkness were starting to slip into my mind, he started humming.

It was a sweet, soft sound; like honey on warm toast, which was strange coming from Potter. Me associating the word 'sweet' to anything to do with him was even stranger.

"Potter," I grumbled, keeping my eyes closed.

His humming stopped briefly, to make way for his answer. "Evans?"

"You're humming."

I could practically hear the smarmy smile in his voice. _Prat_. "I am."

"I'm trying to sleep," I reminded him.

There was a slight scuffling and a slight movement as he moved into the seat next to me. My body tensed, anticipating whatever torture he had planned for the train ride. Carefully, I opened my eyes to look at him.

"And I'm trying help," he replied, resting his head sideways against the back of the seat. "Just close your eyes again."

Now, there was no bloody way I was going to close my eyes when James Potter asked me to. Who knows what he could do? Set my books on fire? Turn my face blue? Closing my eyes was like walking into a lion's den wearing nothing but a t-bone steak.

I frowned at him. "I'm quite capable of getting to sleep myself, thank you."

He let out a sound half way between a laugh and a sigh. "Lily, honestly, all I'm doing is humming. It was helping before."

"It was _not_," I said indignantly, though in actual fact I knew it was. Not that I'd admit that to _him_.

And not that he needed me to admit it. "I could tell it was. You went all floppy and relaxed."

Prat, prat, stupid prat.

"I was thinking relaxing thoughts if you must know."

He made another sound, this time in disbelief. I kept my eyes on him, narrowed and expectant, and he simply returned my gaze with his own. Out of all the things I could understand girls throwing themselves at him, I think it would be his eyes. Hazel eyes had always been a weakness of mine; not quite brown, not quite green, but a medley of Autumnal colours that swirled together. Autumn had always been my favourite season and his eyes just seemed to remind me of warm, rich—

_Focus, focus, focus! _Evans, what the bloody hell are you doing? A shudder of self-disappointment and surprise ran through me. James' eyebrows lifted at my movement.

"Alright?" he asked.

No, I was not alright. Little did he know that I had just been (traitorously) indulging in the colour of his eyes. That didn't mean I liked his eyes or anything, I just liked the colour. Which didn't mean anything. It's like broomsticks; I like the colour of a mahogany broom but that doesn't mean I'm going to go out and ride it.

Innuendo implied.

I turned away from him, nestling back into the seat. "I am just really tired and you aren't helping."

"But I am helping, Evans."

"No, you're not! You're just being an annoying toad, as per usual."

"Harsh words."

I gnashed my teeth slightly and warned, "I'll give you harsh words, Potter."

He made another noncommittal sound. "Excuse me, but—"

Whatever lame excuse he was about to throw at me was interrupted by the compartment door slamming back with such a force that I jumped. Snapping my eyes open, they landed on a rather flushed look Peter Pettigrew.

Great, for where there was one, there was all.

"Wormtail!" James said jovially. His arm was still draped across the back of the couch, its presence flirting within proximity of my own. Uncomfortably, so. I shifted as Peter's eyes moved between us. "Looking a bit red there, mate."

Peter's constantly-watery eyes blinked in his friend's direction. "Yeah, uh, Sirius sent me, he…" His gaze drew warily towards me. Oh, wonderful. This was the warning signs of another Marauder mishap.

Before any of the others could come barrelling in, I pushed myself pointedly to the other side of the compartment and sat down. "Whatever you're up to, do it outside."

James sent me a teasing grin. "Alright, Sleeping Beauty. I promise not to wake you."

Honestly, one of these days I was going to wipe that smile from his face with the tip of my wand.

I narrowed my eyes at him sharply, causing Peter to let out an uneasy sort of mutter and scuffle out of the compartment. Sometimes I wondered how someone with such a lack of backbone ended up with the most outspoken, outrageous crowd around. James simply returned my glare with another lopsided grin and closed the door behind him.

Thank Merlin and Circe, _finally_; some peace and quiet in this place.

* * *

**Thursday 1st September 1977; **Hogsmeade Train Station, Hogsmeade, Scotland.

No, no, _no, _Merlin no, please, no, this _could not be happening_.

The corridor blurred by me as I fumbled through it, desperately trying to knot my tie around my neck. Silence filled the compartments around me as they were empty. Everyone had already gotten of the platform by now.

And where was I, you ask? I was bloody _asleep_. The first day of my most important year in my Hogwarts career and not only was I late to my first duty as Head Girl, I also arrived to the train station unconscious and not dressed. At least, not dressed in my uniform.

I tripped over my own feet coming to the train doorway, and caught myself clumsily on the frame. Scanning the platform, I realized that it was all but deserted as well. Just _great_. If Potter being chosen as Head Boy wasn't enough of a bad omen, the events of today surely promised a terrible year ahead.

The train door slammed abruptly behind me, as if the train were simply waiting for me to get off so it could go on it's merry little way. I stumbled onto the damp platform, clutching my robes desperately to my chest, and attempted to navigate myself in the direction of the carriages.

That, of course, was if there was any carriages left.

Night had fallen and the gas lamps in the station were flickering gently, casting a soft glow which made it almost impossible to find my way without a wand. And, of course, being the brilliant witch that I was, I'd left my wand in my trunk.

As I huffed through the dim light, I couldn't help but blame Potter. Surely he would have come back to the compartment before we arrived - couldn't he have woken me up? His promise of leaving me peaceful echoed in my brain. I squashed it instantly, only to have it replaced by the gruff and cross calling of the platform warden.

"You, girl! Oi, lass." Tall, scrawny and like something out of a children's scary story, the warden hobbled towards me, lantern held high in his hand. He squinted at me with sharp, leering eyes."Whad'ya doin' out 'ere?"

Having a jolly old picnic, _obviously_.

I straightened myself. "I'm trying to find—"

"Ah, I bet'cher a dawdler. There's always a dawdler."

Well, excuse _you_. Ignoring the evidence of this rotten day, the last thing I was was a dawdler. Dawdlers didn't get things done. Dawdlers were irresponsible and lazy. Dawdlers were people like—

The warden jerked his head roughly over his shoulder. "Follow me."

All of a sudden I found myself in a horror film, playing the flustering damsel in distress who you want to scream at. You know, the one who you tell _not _to follow the creep around a dark train station? Yet I limply lead myself in his wake anyway.

Judging by the rest of this day, it wouldn't surprise me if there was worse to come.

He trudged a little ahead of me, muttering grumpily about 'silly lasses' and I'm fairly sure I heard the word 'ginger' thrown in there. Honestly, that's a bit rich coming from a Scottish person - the whole country is full of us.

Everything around us was quite literally deserted, which made me wonder how long I had been asleep while the train had stopped. Longer than ten minutes? Longer than _twenty _minutes?

"Here we are."

Ahead of me stood a lone carriage, door open and waiting for me.

Oh thank Merlin; I could've bloody sang.

I hurried towards it, shrugging my robe on clumsily as I did. The warden limped after me, his expression quite clearly one of disdain.

"The last carriage left ten minutes ago," he said. "They've been waiting for ye."

Even if I had wanted to give him an apology - I _didn't _- he didn't give me a chance. He took his lamp and, for someone so decrepit looking, disappeared into the darkness in a surprising speed.

Good riddance to you, sir.

I clambered up into the carriage, revelling in the promise of getting a break…

… Only to end up sitting across from a very familiar, amber pair of eyes.

Oh, right, the chances of me catching a break are about as likely as Charlie and Marlene agreeing on the same Quidditch team.

"Hi there, Miss Lily Evans."

Merlin, his _smile_.

The carriage began to bustle along, pulled by the invisible force I had come to understand as thestrals. Asher sat in front of me in all of his gorgeous, bronze glory. He grinned, apparently unaffected by my tardiness. Oh, the gods would envy that smile. The boy was like a classical painting; made of lights and shadows that blurred together in a medley of striking beauty. Not to mention that Salazar Slytherin himself would disown the boy for looking like a ray of sunshine. Slytherins were supposed to be damp and cold, not unlike the very dungeon they thrived in.

But that's just me being soppy.

I straightened myself and returned the smile. "Hello."

I didn't think it was possible for his smile to get _warmer_.

"Do you even _own _a watch?"

Antonia glared at me from beside her brother, her trimmed eyebrows pulled together sharply. Whatever warmth Asher's smile had me melting into soon seized rigid. I wasn't entirely sure if Antonia had a problem with me personally, or whether it was because of the infamous Slytherin opinion on people like me.

Or maybe she was just born made of stone.

But being the polite and professional Head Girl that I was, I simply moved my smile to her. "I do, thanks. I was just busy doing some Head Girl kind of things. You know, dealing with First Years and whatnot."

Then she looked at me as if I was something she'd just found on the bottom of her shoe.

"Oh, yeah!" Asher piped up, leaning forward on his knees toward me. Okay, Evans, try your best not to dissolve. "Congratulations on that, by the way. I knew it was going to be you."

He…

Excuse me while I give in to the overly dramatic part of my brain and squeal internally. And only internally.

Cool, calm, collected. That's what I needed to be. Cool, calm, collected. Maybe that could be my mantra for the year - for anything to do with Asher, and anything to do with Potter. A solution to both extremes.

I put on my best humble smile. "Thanks. I wasn't really expecting it actually."

Antonia snorted. _Loudly_. And not the kind of snort you can easily ignore. It was the kind of snort that slapped you in the face like a wet fish, actually.

"Antonia," Asher muttered, giving her a sort of soft scolding smile. Merlin, he can't even _scowl _without looking good.

She ignored him, and kept her cool gaze on me. "Your shirt is buttoned up wrong, did you know? Obviously in all those _important Head Girl _duties, you forgot how to dress yourself properly."

_Oh, bloody, bloody, buggering hell. _

Why do things like this happen to me? What possible crime could I have committed? Perhaps it was in a past life and whoever was Up There - God, Merlin, _whatever_ - was taking an awful lot of pleasure in watching me suffer now.

My hands flew to my shirt, finding the gaping hole (which was conveniently _right over my chest_) and fumbled in trying to button it properly. Also known as 're-buttoning' which required I _un_button the shirt in order to fix it.

At this rate, my bad luck was going to have me dead by the end of the week.

Asher smiled a little, and turned his head away. "I'm not looking, I promise."

Holy mother of Merlin, I wanted to slap him for being so perfect. Honestly, even when my feminine endowments (or lack thereof) were practically hanging out of my shirt, he acted like a gentleman.

And I could tell you of one person who _wouldn't _have.

I quickly fixed my shirt, trying to ignore Antonia's smug grin and her obvious delight in my discomfort. Once my bra wasn't peeking out between my buttons, I straightened myself.

"You can look now," I said.

Asher turned around, gracing me with another one of his smiles. "You're blushing," he said.

The heat in my cheeks doubled at his words. Of course I was blushing, you adorable git.

"Sorry," I mumbled, giving him a lame smile and cupping my flaming cheeks. I hoped that in the darkness he wouldn't be able to notice that my skin and hair suddenly merged into one shocking shade of crimson.

"No need to apologize."

Oh, oh, _stop it you_.

"You should apologize to me," Antonia put in. "After all, it's the prefects who are going to have to suffer under this kind of… clumsiness."

Nausea rolled in my stomach. I wasn't usually the kind of person who was taken down by Antonia's approach in frightening people into submission; we barely crossed paths and when she did put me in her line of fire, I usually had witty retort or two. Still, her stab at my currently horrendous attempts at being Head Girl made me want to curl up on the carriage floor and stay there for the rest of the year.

"Antonia, she buttoned her shirt wrong - it's not as if she set fire to the carriage."

Well, if today was evidence of anything, you just wait for it.

Thick, heavy silence fell on the three of us as the carriage continued toward the castle. Lights were starting to peek through the Autumn mist, meaning the castle turrets would soon move into view. I tried to focus on that, hoping that the familiar feeling of returning home would lighten my mood a little.

The carriage rolled to a stop outside the castle, settling itself between the others that had already parked and been departed. I had never moved so quickly from a carriage in my life.

I bunched my robes to my waist and hopped down, sinking into the mud a little as I did. Half of me was tempted to abandon the Feast all together and reacquaint myself with the four-poster bed whispering my name.

I was half way up the steps to the Entrance Hall when Asher called out to me.

"Lily, wait!"

Sighing, I turned around and watched him jog up the stairs towards me. God, the lamplight did wonders for his eyes. His thin, but dark eyebrows pulled together as he studied me.

"What Antonia said was really rude," he said slowly.

Why, yes. Yes it was. How observant of you.

I shook my head a little. "It's fine. She's right, I suppose. Today has not been one of my finer days."

Asher's frown deepened. "No, no, she's not right."

The doors above us swung open, breathing a wave of warm air out into the night. I shivered. He looked up as they did, nodded his head in way of an invitation and began to climb the stairs. Needless to say, I followed.

"Look, I wasn't lying when I said I knew you'd get Head Girl," he said as we walked. "You deserve it; you're really intelligent and you're really responsible."

"Is that a nice way of calling me bossy?" I teased.

He grinned at me. Oh, that grin. "Yeah, it is actually."

A look passed between us, a shared teasing warmth. Antonia passed us with a look of disdain, but not even her icy glare could penetrate the brilliant mood I was currently in. We eventually reached the stop of the stairs and stepped into the Hall, letting the doors swing shut behind us.

"Being bossy isn't necessarily a bad thing," Asher continued. His strides were long towards the Great Hall, and I almost had to jog to keep up with him. Not that I was complaining _that much, _of course - the boy had legs that girls salivated over. "Someone has to do it."

"And I guess you got stuck with me."

He smiled again, but said nothing. Merlin, why was he so easy to get along with? It wasn't supposed to be that way. Did the Sorting Hat have a seizure before putting him in Slytherin? Granted, his whole family is one of the most purist of them all, but I don't think Asher had a nasty bone in his body.

At least, I liked to think he didn't.

Rubbing the back of his neck slightly, he said to me, "Look, I better catch up with Antonia. She gets a little…"

"Agitated?" I offered, carefully choosing the most polite option that came to mind.

He let out a chuckle. "Actually, I was going to say bitchy. But I'll see you around, Lily."

"Yeah," I replied. Please, Merlin, let me contained my hideously goofy smile until he turns around. "See you later."

I tried to concentrate on fixing my tie instead of watching his back as he walked away, but I couldn't help my letting eyes trail after his dark, curly head. What had once been nausea was now slightly comforted with the fact that at least Asher had some confidence in my abilities as Head Girl. More than me, at least.

I was just beginning to drag my feet towards the Great Hall, lulled by my toasty mood, when a voice shouted from down from the staircase.

"Oi, Evans!"

Looking up, I saw James jog lightly down the last few steps. He ran his hand through his hair as he walked towards me, but not even that most irritating habit of his could bother me in my rare bubble of contentment.

I even bothered to give him a slight, polite smile. "What is it, Potter?"

He watched me warily, as if I was a dog playing docile until a moment of attack. "McGonagall wants to see us after dinner…" His brow furrowed as he kept his eyes on me. "Good sleep?"

"Great, thanks." I tried very, very hard not to comment on his lack of waking me up, and therefore his fault in my disastrous evening.

"What's got you smiling? You were in a rotten mood earlier. Like a mandrake being pulled from a pot."

Don't give in to his silly aggravating, Lily. If now was the time to start anything, it was to try and tolerate Potter and his ridiculous antics.

I took a composing breath and let it mingle with the fuzziness in my stomach. "Nothing," I replied, fixing my robes before starting towards the Great Hall. "I'm just glad to be home."


	4. Of Marauder Mishaps

**Huzzah, chapter three is finally here! I completely overestimated my ability to balance writing and University, but hey ho. It has arrived. Big thank you to the darling Tara - I promise to reward your beta skills when I send you a care package. Enough of me though, enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: **Please refer to the earlier chapters. Honestly, if you've gotten this far without turning blind, you know I'm not J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Monday 5th September 1977; **Head Student Dormitories, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland.

The moment I opened my eyes, I swear I would be dead. After all, who would survive what I'd been subjected to over the past couple of days? And even if I was alive, I highly doubt I would last the year.

How promising.

But, really, what else did I expect? Living under a ceiling with none other than the toerag that had been terrorizing me for the past six years could only end in one way: _death_. My death, to be precise.

Or maybe I was just being dramatic.

But as I lay there, the sun burning against my closed eyelids and the clock ticking dangerously close to breakfast time, I couldn't help but replay the uncomfortable events of the past weekend.

First, **The Bedroom Befuddlement.**

* * *

**Friday 2nd September 1977; **Lily's Bedroom, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland.

I once said I wasn't unused to hearing screams in my sleep. That was true; in the past two years, my nightmares have grown from frivolous childrens' fears into realistic, and quite probable situations.

But let's not dwell on those right now.

What I _was _unused to hearing was giggling. _Female _giggling, accompanied by what sounded remarkably like bodies being moved from wall to wall.

My eyes snapped open as I frowned into the darkness. The sound was coming from outside my door, and it took me a moment to remember who I shared a common room with. Then the sounds made sense.

Because, of course, it was the first Friday of the year and Potter couldn't help himself.

"Shhhh," I heard the devil himself hush, obviously trying to quiet down whatever poor soul he'd conned into following him to bed. It was an amused sound, like he was enjoying the current disregard for about seventeen school rules.

His companion was equally amused. "Oh, come on, James."

I lay there frozen, in a mixture of disgust and curiosity. I couldn't recognize the girl's voice, so I was fairly sure she was from another house, if not another year. The responsible part of me wanted to spring out of bed and bust the pair of them, but another part was frightened of what I might see — and what I might feel upon seeing it.

James' voice murmured a reply, and there was another bout of shuffling. Something thudded on the ground — probably one of the books piled on the table between our bedrooms. Then, there was another thud.

Only this one was louder than the rest.

They were quite literally _against my door_.

Please, please, Merlin, let this actually be one of those nightmares I was talking about and let me wake up now. Please.

Because, that's what it felt like. Like one of those nightmares where you're so scared that your feet refuse to move, and your rooted to that one spot as the danger moves closer, and closer, and closer…

… _Bugger_.

I didn't move as the door budged open, ever so slightly, and let the common room light flood in. Holding my breath, I willed James to realize that _this was not his room_.

James stumbled in, a stupid grin gracing his face and held his hand out. "I thought you said this was going to be just a summer thing."

Well, what else did I expect? Of course he was going to ignore my silent pleas. When else did he listen to me?

"Well, it's technically still summer," the girl, whoever she was, replied. "I have until the end of September, you see."

"Ah, I see."

No, Potter, you arrogant prat, you don't see! In fact, you are quite certifiably blind, because this is not your bedroom and I am in here!

He pulled the girl towards him. In the dim light coming from the common room, I could see the girl's profile - she was blonde, with thin features and incredibly pretty. His hand moved to stroke down the girl's neck, and it was at that point that I feared I would vomit.

Think, Evans, think. How could I possibly get out of this situation without making it obvious that I'd laid there and watched the whole thing up until now, and not said a word? It was difficult, but probably not impossible. After all, it was dark, they hadn't seemed to notice me yet and I was supposed to be asleep.

I could call them out, showing that I had in fact witnessed this whole ordeal, in hopes that their combined embarrassment would make up for my own humiliation. Then again, Potter was never good at being embarrassed. He'd simply twist it around so that I would suffer.

Or I could pretend to have been sleeping the whole time, only to wake up now, at the sound of their… intimacy. That would involve less humiliation, but perhaps a little more work in convincing Potter. Either way, it was the better risk.

But I swear to Merlin, I will never forgive him for this.

The Girl (now branded a title, therefore a proper noun with a capital letter) was just about to kiss him, when I began my award winning performance.

"Potter?" I asked, forcing my voice into the groggiest sound I could muster. Rubbing my face, I pushed myself to sit up.

The pair of them snapped their gazes to me, eyes widening through the darkness. A small curse dropped from The Girl's mouth as she quickly untangled herself from Potter's grip.

Flicking my eyes between them, my brow furrowed deeper. "For Merlin's sake, Potter, what _are _you doing?"

"Oh, shit, Evans," he mumbled, blinking at me like a deer in the headlights. I almost smiled; catching Potter unaware was a rare and beautiful sight. "I thought…"

"What are you doing in my room?" I looked to The Girl, and blinked pointedly. "_Potter!"_

He glanced around, almost disorientated, and The Girl quickly moved towards the door. She didn't even look at him as she left.

He noticed that. "Bloody hell," he kind of hissed, before moving clumsily after her. "Imogen! Imogen, wait."

Ah, Imogen Vance. From what I knew of her, she was a sixth-year Hufflepuff with a particularly good talent in Divination. Her older sister, Emmeline, had left Hogwarts the previous year and used to be a prefect.

A few minutes of silence followed, briefly being broken by the sound of the portrait door slamming. Content that Potter wouldn't be returning, I settled back into my bed and tried to go to sleep.

Of course, I would have no such luck.

Dark tendrils of sleep were just beginning to cloud the edges of my mind when a knock of the door made me jump. Looking up, I saw James' half-lit figure leaning against the door frame.

I didn't say anything, I just pushed myself to sit upright.

"Er, sorry… about before," he said, stepping a little into the room. "Just, you know, not used to the room set up just yet."

_Obviously_. "Well, let me make things simple: your bedroom is the one where I am _not _in the bed."

He let out a little amused sound, though it wasn't directed at me. It was somehow distant, like he had thought of an inside joke. I scowled at him through the dark.

"I'm not joking, Potter. That was…" I searched for a word that would earn the least amount of teasing, "… uncomfortable. Not to mention you broke about seventeen school rules."

"Eighteen," he corrected me.

"What?"

The door widened slightly as he stepped into the room. "I broke eighteen rules. I accidentally followed Imogen into the girls' bathroom while chasing after her."

My eyes narrowed on him. Honestly, only Potter could make light of a situation like this. "Well, if you're such an expert of the rules of Hogwarts, why don't you _follow_ them?"

"Because where's the fun in that?" he grinned. The grin faded when I didn't drop my glare. Letting out a sigh, he took another step towards my bed. "Look, I'm sorry. That was… awkward."

I let my gaze lock onto his fingers, which were currently brushing through his messy, dark hair. "Stop that," I snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Running your hand through your hair. You only do it thinking that it would somehow impresses girls, and you have no need to impress me."

His eyebrows shot up. "Is that really why you think I do it?"

Yes. Why else would someone take up such a pointless and irritating habit?

I simply looked at him. "Why are you still in my bedroom?"

When he looked back at me, his expression changed. It was sort of thoughtful, and his eyes drank me in as if to measure my feelings. I didn't shift or say anything; I let the minute of silence pass under his scrutiny.

"For a number of reasons," said James eventually. He turned towards my bookcase and idly picked up my copy of _Northanger Abbey_. His fingers brushed delicately over the pages. "I wanted to apologize."

"Which you already have done."

"And I feel like I should…" he trailed off, the fluttering pages of my book in his hands filling his short silence, "… explain myself."

Oh, for the love of Merlin's polka dot underwear.

A sort of uneasiness fluttered in my stomach, not like butterflies but like the churning of acid. I straightened a little against my headboard.

"You don't need to. I don't care."

His hazel eyes looked back to me. In nothing but the light peeking through my door, they flickered like embers on wood.

"No, you probably don't," he said. "But you'll use it as evidence against me without knowing the full story, and that's not very fair now, is it?"

So, he was going to tell me anyway. Fantastic.

I let out a sigh. "Fine. But it doesn't really make a difference - you're wasting your breath."

"Oh, Evans, don't you know I'm always wasting my breath on you?"

He dropped my book carefully back onto the shelf, and moved to the end of my bed. Suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious in my pyjamas, I pulled the covers up and over my chest. He barely smirked at the gesture.

The smirk dropped as he began to speak. "Imogen, she… that wasn't just some one night stand, you know? I know what you like to think about me, but I'm not quite that bad when it comes to birds — I mean, girls."

I didn't understand his need to relay this information to me. As far as I, he and the rest of the universe were concerned, I couldn't care less about his love life and conquests. Just as long as I wasn't a part of them, I was quite content to let him be while slightly judging whatever girl was stupid enough to fall for his charms.

But then I found myself asking a question I didn't realize I wanted to know the answer to. "So, what, is she your girlfriend?"

There was a beat of silence, thick and thoughtful, and I had to hold my breath.

His lips pressed together. "No," he said carefully, "she isn't. Imogen and I… we had something over the summer. It was kind of casual, but that was because she wanted it to be. It wasn't supposed to happen once we got back to school, but she saw me in the hallway before and…"

"And I don't think I need to hear the rest of this, _thank you," _I said dismissively.

Whatever he was going to say next choked in his throat. His hand went to reach for his hair, but at the sight of my narrowed eyes, he awkwardly dropped it to his collar.

Please, please, Merlin, make him leave already and pretend like this painful encounter never happened.

"I just thought…" he began, croaking strangled words. "I just thought you ought to know. I don't need you attacking me for being a bit of sleaze as well as a toerag."

"Oh, I already think you're a sleaze," I half-joked, giving him a subtle smile. It was in an attempt to make things less awkward, but it sort of felt strange. I wasn't used to smiling at Potter.

And he wasn't used to seeing it. His eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "Did you just make a joke?"

Note to self: never allow yourself to try and joke your way out of awkward situations.

"It has been known to happen on occasion," I said.

He grinned at me, all tension in the air seeming to dissipate as he did. "Who would have thought? Little Lily has a sense of humour."

_Little Lily? _I straightened up indignantly, letting the covers drop absently from my chest. "Are you done invading my privacy, Potter? And for the record, I'm not little."

"No, but you obviously still like pink sheep." He winked at me. "Nice pyjamas, by the way."

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I scrambled for my covers again. The pair of pyjamas in question was not a favourite pair of mine, but the warmth they offered overruled my dislike towards the fluffy pink sheep. Trying to cover them was no use - once James had caught onto something potentially embarrassing, he would milk it until it was dry.

That's what made him such a prat.

"Get out of my room," I said flatly.

He offered no protest, but instead a smarmy salute as he disappeared out of my door. I fought the urge to let out a strangled sound of frustration as it shut, and simply flopped back against my pillow.

Closing my eyes, I tried my best to smother the image of James' smug grin on the back of my eyelids. Why did he have to come back into my room? It would have made things much more easier if he had just gone after Imogen and never returned. Playing pretend wasn't always such a bad way to go about things, and it would have much more preferable in this instance.

And why did he seem so determined to explain himself to me? James Potter was the _last _person to care about what anyone thought of him - reputation be damned. But he was intent on making sure I didn't think badly of him, that I didn't think that fiasco was just a one night stand. That's what confused me more than anything. That's what made me feel so uneasy.

It came to the point where my mind was so overcome with thoughts and questions about him, that the likelihood of falling asleep was zero to none. I simply lay back against my pillow and stared at the ceiling until the sunrise began to creep in my window.

* * *

Then, the **Pettigrew Problem.**

**Sunday 4th September 1977; **Head Student Dormitories, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland.

Sundays mornings were perfect.

The seventh day of the week had always been my favourite. It was the day to do nothing; to curl up with a good novel, or indulge in a little Debussy. Of course, everyone else used their Sundays to frantically catch up on their Monday-due homework, which is why I took the time to absolutely _avoid _the Library. Or, as the fortunes had been so generous to bless me with, some people used their mornings for Quidditch practice.

That meant a certain somebody had left me the shared common room all to myself.

For this particular Sunday, I had an exact plan. First, I was going to take the longest, hottest bath that Hogwarts had ever seen in attempts to wash away the weekend's awkwardness. Since witnessing James and Imogen's stunning performance of artistic tongue work, the Head Boy and I had been avoiding eye contact. And, while it was kind of nice not to listen to his tiresome teasing and supposed wit, ignoring each other would eventually cause problems for our Head Student duties.

But that was eventually.

Meanwhile, I was going to take advantage of my fleeting freedom.

The second part of my exact Sunday plan was to curl up with Urmitrude Yeldon's latest novel _The Root of Asphodel_. I didn't usually indulge in romantic fiction, but after many of Ambria's whines, I gave in.

To be fair, the story was pretty well written. It followed two people - a man and woman - and the way they constantly kept missing each other. Their timing was impeccably bad. When one decided to give their love a try, the other had a new partner, and vice versa, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. This got the point where I was nearly gripping the book with frustration - honestly, couldn't the girl just stop being so stubborn and give the poor bloke a chance?

I stepped out into the common room, all thoughts of the novel tucked neatly in line behind my strong desire for that hot bath. Smiling as I look around the deserted room, I allowed myself to saunter towards the bathroom in nothing but my pyjamas.

Though this time they were a little more sophisticated than pink fluffy sheep.

If the prefects' bathroom was supposed to be impressive, the bathroom in our common simply took the biscuit. It was a wide circular room, with soft cream tiling that reached up to the ceiling. A mural of white horses galloping out from a wave break stretched out up above. There was an arching clear window that was almost the height of the entire wall, and below it sat a large, curved bath.

As I walked towards it, the mirror above the sink greeted me, "Going to take a bath? By the looks of your skin, you need a good moisturizing, my dear. I suggest the pink tap."

Smothering the urge to silence the mirror, I turned the pink tap and let the bath fill. As it did, I began to unbutton my pyjama shirt and—

Well, we can fast forward this undressing bit, can't we?

Once I hit the hot water, it was as if a thousand knots inside my body untangled, and I slipped into a moment of perfect bliss. No Potter, no problems.

Except, of course, trying to deal with the ever present dark, looming cloud of awkwardness.

It was weird, really; I couldn't explain why I was bothered by it. And, even weirder, I couldn't figure out why _he _was bothered by it. It wasn't like either of us had come into this without knowing the faults of the other.

I should have expected it. He shouldn't have cared about what I thought.

But that wasn't the way it was going, and that really bothered me. Like, properly, absolutely, insides-all-tangled-up-like-impossible-shoelaces, bothered me.

I hadn't spoken to any of my friends about it, despite the frustration practically exploding from every one of my pores. There's no way I could bear another knowing smile from Marlene, and a comment about 'dormant jealousy' or some other rubbish. The only feelings that I had towards Potter are a) occasional disgust at some of his most ridiculous feats, and otherwise b) continual indifference.

And I suppose I should probably add c) polite civility if we were ever going to get any Head Student work done.

The water soaked into my skin as I pondered. The questions of why Potter was so adamant to explain himself still hung in the air, and, while I desperately wanted answers, I was far from willing to ask for them.

After submerging myself in the water long enough to give my skin the look of a prune, I reluctantly pulled myself from the bath and wrapped myself in one of Hogwarts' fine, fluffy towels. The mirror made another snide comment, to which I promptly shut the door.

Another great thing about Sundays: No Potter meant I could risk the run from the bathroom to my bedroom in nothing but a towel.

Or, at least I thought.

I was about half way across the hallway towards my door when I heard it.

_A squeak__**. **_A rather high-pitched, rodent like squeak but nevertheless human. I froze. Tightening the towel self-consciously around my chest, I very, _very _carefully turned my head to see what it was.

And at that moment, I wished for an unfortunate blessing involving the floor swallowing me whole.

With a beetroot red face, and covered in mud, Peter Pettigrew stood smack bang in the middle of the common room. His eyes, as wide as Quaffles, stared at me in my immodesty.

_Bloody, buggering, shit, hell. _

"S-Sorry!" he stammered, his eyes nevertheless remaining trained on my frozen figure. "I didn't mean to — James said — He said I could—"

Blood was now flooding to my own cheeks, and I was sure they were blazing as bright as my hair. Anger and embarrassment bubbled in my stomach.

Mud began to drip from Peter's shaking figure onto the carpet. Oh, _wonderful_. "He said I could come here and use the bathroom. There was… an accident."

Breathe, Evans, just breathe. Remember: cool, calm, collected. Cool, calm, _collected_. _Ignore the fact that you're standing practically naked in front of a boy belonging to the most irresponsible group of males you've ever met. _

A tense moment of a silence passed between us, the pair of us just staring at one another.

"Peter," I said slowly, trying to control myself. "Peter, please _leave_."

He blinked and shyly looked away. "I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean—"

"_Go_."

With another sort of squeak, he barrelled around, leaving as dirty as he had arrived. I stared after him as the door slammed, before immediately retreating to my bedroom. I was going to murder Potter. No! I was going to torture him, and make his life hell, and _then _murder him.

Prat, prat, that stupid, stupid prat.

So much for my perfect Sunday morning.

* * *

And as if that wasn't bad enough, my weekend was topped off later that day, with the **Sirius Situation.**

**Sunday 4th September 1977; **Head Student Common Room, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland.

Must not murder Potter. Must not murder Potter. _Must not murder Potter._

I paced back and forth in front of the now diminished fire. My fists were so tight that my nails dug into the soft of my palms. That stupid, stupid prat. Not only had I had the unfortunate experience of almost seeing _him _and a girl naked, my own half-nude body was now ingrained into the brain of a slightly pudgy 17-year-old boy.

What part of _secret password _was so hard to understand!?

The clock hanging above the fireplace let out a chime, and politely informed me that it was fifteen minutes until dinner. I gritted my teeth, let out a sigh and dropped into the sofa.

If Potter didn't make it back before six o'clock, I would be forced to unleash my wrath on him in front of the whole Great Hall. Not that he'd mind; imagine all the doting fangirls that would throw themselves on him to tend to his, er, _emotional _wounds.

Merlin, why was I stuck with such an idiot with as equally as idiotic friends?

(Except, maybe, you know, Remus. But I was starting to question his sanity in sticking around with them.)

The door swung open. I snapped my head towards it, mouth ready to release the arsenal of carefully chosen insults and expletives.

"You absolute _imbecile! _How dare you—"

_Oo-er._

Marlene's eyebrows shot up as I jumped to my feet. "Whoa there, Ginge." She stood in the door way, her tabby cat curled in her arms, and titled her at me. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Not what, but who," I said. I dropped into the couch again, feeling suddenly exhausted.

Her lips tugged into a slight smile. "Trouble in paradise?"

"If paradise is a realm of Hell."

Dropping onto the couch next to me, she dumped a mewling Puddington into my lap. Of course, the cat immediately decided to acquaint his claws with my thighs. He purred as he padded. My hand automatically went for his sensitive ears, hoping that science was right in saying stroking a cat was good for calming down.

It didn't work.

"So, what utterly horrible crime has James committed now?" Marlene asked. She stretched her legs over my lap, narrowly missing her now snoozing kitty. That typical knowing smile laced her lips; it was the one that only ever made an appearance whenever a certain cretin was topic of conversation.

I sighed. "Well, _first of all—" _

"There's a 'first of all'?" she laughed.

"Isn't there always? Anyway, first of all, there was a bit of a… bedroom mix up."

At that she nearly bolted up into the air, sending Puddington to the floor with a disgruntled meow. Her hand took my forearm in a death grip. "A bedroom _mix up? _As in, a fortunate mishap which ended in a wrong - but _oh, so right _- night of fun?"

Oh, Merlin's beard, excuse me while I vomit.

"No!" I said, scowling at her. "There was no _fun_. It was awful."

"Oh, so he's not as good in bed as everyone makes out?"

"_Marlene_!"

She simply grinned. "Sorry, there was no sex, I get it."

"Thank you." I straightened myself.

"Prude."

Dear Circe, please give me the patience not to strangle this poor creature who claims to be my friend. It isn't her fault that a few too many hits to the head as a child has made her incompetent of having any serious conversation. Thank you.

"_Anyway_," I continued, "on Friday night, James decided to bring home Imogen Vance for a little… catching up. It was late, and it was dark, and obviously he chose the wrong door."

Marlene's eyes were wide with amusement. "On Friday? You saw me the next morning! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was trying to erase the whole ordeal my mind, thank you very much."

"Was he shirtless? Because I've seen him shirtless, and I'm fairly certain it would make you change your opinion about the boy."

I ignored her. "So, he ended up stumbling into my room with Imogen attached at the lips—" I tried not to cringe, "— and I, er, pretended to be asleep."

"_What?" _

"I didn't want him to think I'd been listening to them going at it outside!"

She raised an eyebrow at me. "But you were."

That was… beside the point. I sniffed indignantly, and glanced at the clock. Five minutes until dinner and Potter still wasn't back.

"Yeah, well, then I sat up and asked him what the hell he was doing, after which Imogen quickly left. He followed her, but I didn't expect him to come back."

"He came _back? _Into your room?"

"To… explain himself." The words sat uneasily in my mouth like rising bile. My earlier bath had done little to rid me of the awkwardness when it came to his need to defend his actions. "But this morning was worse."

Her blonde eyebrows furrowed together. "James was at Quidditch this morning."

Heat rose in my cheeks as I remembered Peter's bumbling reaction. Suddenly, dressed in a jean and t-shirt, I felt horribly self-conscious. I grabbed a cushion from behind me, and held it to my chest.

"I know. It was Peter this time," I said quietly. "I had a bath, and I was in nothing but a towel, and I _thought _the common room would be empty, but…"

I shrugged, hoping Marlene would fill in the blanks.

Instead, she erupted in a fit of laughter. She rolled back against the arm of the couch, her blonde hair bouncing with each giggle. Puddington decided to make a reappearance from the under the couch, obviously unimpressed with the ruckus.

"Peter Pettigrew saw you naked!" she shrieked, almost hysterically.

"I was wearing a towel!"

This didn't make a difference to her. "That's probably the most action he's ever had in life!"

While this was inevitably true, I was getting rather impatient with her. Besides, Potter _still _hadn't come back and that was bothering me. Even though I had a streak of drama queen in me, a scene in the Great Hall wasn't exactly ideal.

I had just glanced at the clock again, when there was a knock at the door. Marlene, who had up until that moment been laughing, snapped her gaze towards it. A sort of eerie silence fell between us; the anticipation of whether or not I was about to blow my lid off at whomever it was.

Hesitantly, I approached the door. If it was James, why was he knocking? He obviously knew the password - well enough to hand it out to his friends, apparently - so it was a little unnecessary.

Unless he'd predicted my reaction and was trying to go for a polite approach. _Ha! _Too little, too late, Potter. Too little, too—

It wasn't him.

What on _earth_?

A pink envelope floated through the doorway, languidly hovering in the centre of the room. Small confetti hearts showered from it, coating the floor with sprinkles of fuchsia. I squinted at it.

"It's not addressed…" Marlene mused, standing on the sofa to get a better look. She gave me a suspicious look. "Do you have a secret admirer I don't know about?"

I didn't answer her. Instead, I walked warily towards it. It was bound to be for James. My love life was a dark chasm that not even the bravest explorer was willing to attempt.

"Maybe it's James' apology. Oh, that's _cute_."

Shooting Marlene the darkest look I could muster, I finally came to a stop in front of it. I let out a breath, before reaching to grab it.

And it instantly sprang away from my fingers and into life.

"_Lily Evans!" _it drawled, its tone husky and slow. I blinked at it; apparently someone was sending me a… howler? Except it wasn't shouting at me. At least, not yet it wasn't.

I stammered, "Uh, yes?"

"_How beautiful you are, like a brightly shining star, your smile shimmers like pearls…"_

My heart began to hammer in my chest. Maybe Marlene was right; maybe it _was _a secret admirer. Perhaps someone with dark curls, bronze skin and amber eyes. Perhaps.

The curve of what I supposed was the envelope's smile widened into a sort of smirk.

"_You naughty, naughty, girl." _

Or perhaps not.

That was when my heart plummeted to my stomach. It continued as I stared, suddenly unable to breath:

"_You've been _so _naughty that it's about time someone taught you a lesson. Why don't you let a poor, lonely Head Boy have his wicked way with you, you wicked witch? Not to mention he's a Quidditch Captain; you know the old saying, save a broom, ride him instead! You've seen the way he strokes his Cleansweep… imagine his hands on _your _curves… touching… caressing… _feeling_…" _

I was going to be sick.

Horror took my stomach in its iron grip, and squeezed so tightly I thought I was going to die. Even Marlene, the Queen of Inappropriate Situations, couldn't muster a laugh.

"I can't believe— I can't believe he—" she stammered, her voice choked with shock.

The envelope continued, obviously relishing in my mortification. "_His fingers sweeping over your skin… Moving up your thighs…" _Not satisfied with simply describing the actions, the voice grew breathy and began to moan. "_Pressing up into your—"_

I obliterated it with a shriek.

* * *

"Lily! Lily, wait!"

If I wasn't going to _really _murder Potter before, I was definitely going to murder him now. I don't think I had ever been so angry in my life. I had never been so _mortified. _The only positive thing out of this whole ordeal was that his stupid face wasn't there to witness it.

Marlene stumbled down the staircase after me, Puddington writhing in her arms. "Lils! Stop! It's not—"

"Don't you _dare _try to defend him, Marlene!" I growled, throwing her a dagger of a look over my shoulder. "This is it. This is the last straw!"

I don't understand what part of his Neanderthal mindset convinced him that it was a good idea to send me a… a… whatever that was! Honestly, could he be more inane? What would it take for him to develop an attitude that surpassed one of a four-year-old? An aging potion? A good smack in the face? I was willing to do either.

The staircase pulled from the wall, causing the pair of us to stop and grab onto the side. I let out a irritated huff. As soon as I reached the Great Hall, Potter wasn't going to know what hit him.

Marlene came to my side. "Lily, I don't think it's quite what you think…"

I replied through gritted teeth. "I'm so _sick _of him. Honestly, what did I do to deserve this?" I looked up at the ceiling, indulging in a little drama. "_What? _Tell me, Merlin. What possible crime have I committed to deserve this torture?"

"You're overreacting."

_Overreacting? _Oh, McKinnon, I'll show you overreacting.

Before I could throttle my so-called best friend, the staircase came to an abrupt halt by the doors of the Great Hall. I bolted towards them, ignoring Marlene's warning shouts of my name.

The doors swung back against the stone walls with a bit of a bang.

Scanning the Hall didn't take long; how could it when the object of my assault had the most ridiculously messy hair known to wizard-kind? James sat in his usual spot at the end of the Gryffindor table. As always, Remus and Peter were at his either side, and a towering plate of food sat in front of him.

Ha, let's see how big that appetite is after I was done with him.

I stalked towards him, rummaging in my pockets to fist the sugary confetti I had salvaged from the common room floor. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do with it, but lobbing it at his head seemed like a rather good idea.

James wasn't the first to look up at me. In fact, he didn't even realise I was towering behind his back until Peter let out an embarrassed squeak — evidently this morning's experience had not faded from his mind quite yet.

The boy in question turned to me, eyebrows raised slightly. "Hullo, Evans."

Hullo, indeed.

I began to pelt the confetti at him. Probably not the most aggressive weapon, but I'm sure the message came across clearly.

"Oh, whoa! _Watch it_!"

"_You — disgusting — worthless — excuse for a — wizard! How dare you — embarrass me — like that!" _

He winced under my much-less-than-painful blows, and blinked up through the rosy blur in bewilderment. That _prat_. How dare he have the nerve to look remotely innocent? I wasn't going to have any of it. He was supposed to be Head Boy, for Merlin's sake! He had responsibilities!

I glared at him as my ammunition ran out. "I bet you think you're _so _clever. I bet you think you're absolutely hilarious! I bet you've been sitting here all day just thinking how wonderfully humiliated I would be when I received your _charming _correspondence! Well, guess what, Potter - you are _wrong_._" _

"Correspondence?" James' eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What _are _you on about?"

Anger blazed in my stomach. Honestly, this boy was going to give me a serious health condition.

I stepped towards him, my finger centimetres from his noise in an angry point. "Don't even bother to lie! Not when this _literally _had your name written all over it!"

"Oi!" he replied, blinking at the sudden onslaught of my finger. "I don't know what you're on about, you nutter."

I tried my hardest to tower over him (not an easy feat when he was at least four inches taller than me), my fingers inching dangerously towards my concealed wand. "Of course you do. Your cute, little adaptation of a Howler."

A small moment of silence fell, and I was suddenly aware of where in fact I stood. Nearly every eye in the Great Hall sat on me, with the exception of the senior years who I assume had grown tired of the dispute between Potter and I. Still, despite the audience, and despite the whole melodrama of the situation, I couldn't quite contain myself.

If the whole working-for-the-Ministry plan pans out, I should definitely consider going into performing arts.

"Howler?" James repeated dumbly, squinting up at me. Various pink love-hearts stuck out from his wild, dark hair. The obsessive-compulsive part of me had to fight to brush them away. "I didn't send you a Howler."

I swear I could feel the acid in my stomach bubble in irritation.

"Yes," I all-but-hissed, "you _did. _You even signed your name. I suppose you thought you'd develop your old gag of asking me out into something more… _mature_." The last word swam in my mouth like poison.

"Listen, Evans." He gave me an amused smile - a smile I wanted to hex right off. "Obviously someone has wound you up. I didn't send you anything! I was at Quidditch all of this morning, and then I've been working with Remus in the Library up until now. Right, Moony?"

I followed James' quick glance to Remus, who in turn, backed his comrade up. "Yeah, we've been working on some pre-class Defense Against the Dark Arts work."

"It was _signed _by _you." _This was ridiculous. It couldn't have been anyone _but _him.

With a casual shrug and another careless smile, he asked, "Was it a love letter?"

Well, of sorts.

"No," I said. "It was a cheap, foul, unimaginative example of bad taste. It was like something from the pages of a Mills & Boon, only _worse._"

"What's a 'Mills & Boon'? Is that some sort of Muggle thing?"

I rolled my eyes and let a deep breath out through my nose. "It's the seediest kind of romance novel you can find. But that's beside the point! You don't need to know what it resembles because _you _wrote it."

His hazel eyes lit up in mischievous glee. "It was a _dirty _love letter! It was—"

He cut himself off, the glint in his eyes dimming to one of realization. I was about to question what on earth was wrong with him, when I heard the very distinct protest of Sirius Black coming from behind me.

I span on my heels to see Marlene dragging Sirius into the Hall by his ear. _Literally_.

"Get off me, woman! You're absolutely barmy!" he growled, struggling under the pinch of her fingers.

Marlene seemed to simply pinch harder. She stopped him in front of us. "Tell her," she said.

"I didn't do anything _wrong!" _

"Sirius Phineas Black, you tell her or so help me Merlin…"

I stared at the pair of them in bewilderment. From the bench, James had pushed himself to stand and was now at my side. He watched his friend's assault with what I assumed was equal confusion.

Sirius shook his head, sending his wild hair flying everywhere. Honestly, was it against some rule in the Marauder handbook to have a decent haircut?

"You are pinching me _really hard_," he told Marlene through gritted teeth. "It's rather hard to concentrate on telling someone something when you're on my ear!"

Marlene scowled down at him. "Then you better hurry up."

With a bit of a struggle, Sirius managed to unattach himself from Marlene's death grip and stand straight. He brushed himself down; some Wizard band t-shirt peeked from behind his robes.

He cleared his throat, about to speak, only to catch sight of the pink confetti littered amongst the wanton curls that sat upon James' head. Then he let out the strangest noise I had yet to hear in my lifetime.

It was a strangled sound, somewhat resembling a laugh but tinged with the slightest bit of fear. Or the closest thing to fear someone who thought themselves invincible could muster.

"Pink is definitely your colour, Prongs."

"_Sirius_," came another of Marlene's growls.

"Alright! Alright, you daft cow." With a disgruntled huff, he turned towards me. He made an obvious attempt to compose his face into something serious, yet the cracks of mirth were beginning to show. "They're called Screamers."

I should have felt the air around me shift. I should have felt the penny being thrown into the air, spinning and waiting to drop. I should have realized sooner, instead of throwing myself into, yet another, chasm of humiliation.

But, of course, being me I didn't.

"What?" I asked, too peeved to actually care; I had a Potter to murder over here.

The badly composed mask fully crumbled, and Sirius' grin widen. "The envelopes. They're called Screamers. I'm assuming I don't have to explain why, eh?"

Oh.

Oh, _my gods. _

I couldn't breathe. While I had thought my day had certainly surpassed the record amount of embarrassment inflicted in less than twenty four hours, it appeared there was still shame to come. And lots of it.

Blood surged to my face, filling my cheeks in a blaze. I had just wrongly accused James Potter in front of the entire Great Hall. Not only was I _wrong _- which rarely happened in our typical predicaments - but I had seemed so _certain _that I was right.

And I had made that very clear to _everyone_.

I went to speak, but I was drowned out by the wrongly accused himself.

"You sent her a _Screamer?" _James asked, his voice laced with both incredulity and awe. "An actual Screamer?"

Sirius grinned, though it was a little shaken. "Yeah, I got them to work properly this time. You know, without all the jumbled words."

"You're bloody mad." There was a slight shake of James head, but from what I could see he was _amused _by the whole ordeal.

But then again, of course he was. He wasn't the one who had just made a fool of herself in front of the entire school. I might as well just flash my knickers and be done with it.

Suddenly, Sirius and James' heads snapped to me. "_Did you just say you were going to flash your knickers_?"

I blinked. _No, no, no! _I had to stop thinking out loud.

"I could dock points for this!" I said in an attempt to divert their attention. "This was a violation of more than _ten _school rules, and don't think I'm afraid to punish you because you're in my House, Black."

By now, the remaining diners' attention had returned to their food. It seemed even the First Years had grown sick of our dramatics.

He rolled his eyes. "Lighten up, Evans. It wasn't even meant for you."

James decided to join in. "Hold on, we're forgetting Evans' offer to flash her knickers."

We both ignored him.

"Then who, may I ask, was it for? Considering it was addressed to me."

"It wasn't addressed to anyone, actually."

"It said my name as soon as it opened!"

His grey eyes sparked like thunder clouds, hovering above his devil grin. "Then perhaps you shoudn't have been so nosy."

"You cannot just go around recklessly sending inappropriate messages to one another! Especially now that James is Head Boy. He has _duties_. He's supposed to be a role model!"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that James and I had become some sort of mangled pair of Siamese twins."

I gritted my teeth. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you are not supposed to be involving him in your contemptible schemes anymore."

"Who died and made you his mother?" He shot James a look. "I don't know how you're going to survive this one."

"I am not trying to be his mother," I replied. "But fine! _Fine_. It is not as if I'll be bothered when your mate gets the sack. In fact, it will be a relief."

James nudged me from behind. "Oh, Evans, don't be like that. I know you'll miss me really."

"Yeah, if poor ol' James here gets the sack, Peter won't be around anymore," Sirius said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Don't think we haven't heard about your little romp this morning, Miss Evans."

Peter let out another squeak from the table, hanging his head to hide the sudden shade of beetroot that was his cheeks.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid _git. Letting out a frustrated noise, I tried to remind myself that in less than a year I would be out of Hogwarts and Marauder-free.

Well, that was unless Marlene, Ambria or Charlie decided to do something ridiculously dim-witted and marry one of them.

I was just about to open my mouth again, when Potter cut me off. "Come on, Evans. We've got some stuff to discuss."

The last thing I wanted to do was go with him. At that moment, all I wanted to do was pretend he never existed, and we had never met. I don't think anyone quite understand how much easier my life would be if our paths had never crossed. Not that I was wishing death on him, despite threatening to murder the boy. I just wish that we'd been born in different decades - centuries, even.

Ambria always said that people came into our lives for a reason, and even if it didn't seem like it, that reason was always good. I was having a hard time seeing James' presence on my radar as anything but a nuisance.

"I haven't eaten yet," I said indignantly.

He sent me a crooked grin. "Will your apology taste sweeter over a plate of dinner?"

I wondered if everyone had these moments. These little precious fractions of time to share with someone they so dearly disliked. Because if I was the only one suffering through this, I was going to have a stern word with the people upstairs.

And by upstairs, I meant wherever the Fates were sitting, messing around with my life.

Huffing, I simply turned towards the doors - I mean, why not? It's not like the day could get any worse. I was probably born with an infinitesimal chance of happiness. "Fine."

"Don't worry, I'll get the house elves to bring something up." Pfft, typical pampered Potter. "But that does break a few rules, so nevermind."

"My appetite has no respect for rules," I grumbled. "If you expect an apology, it's going to be on a full stomach."

He simply grinned.

* * *

For ten whole minutes, Potter and I did nothing but stare at each other. The clock ticked on the wall above the fireplace, occasionally filling the silence with idle comments such as "Well, it's the perfect time for a cup of tea!" or "Shouldn't you be getting on with that Charms study? It's getting awfully late."

His hazel eyes simply eyed me with subtle curiosity, the only sign of his interest being the slight curve of his lips. I returned his gaze with a little more coolness. Long minutes passed with nothing but a contemplative sigh every once and a while.

Then he broke the silence. Leaning forward to rest his chin on his linked hands, he asked, "Did you enjoy your dinner?"

A plate of mince ravioli sat on the coffee table between us, almost finished. True to his word, the moment we had stepped inside the Common Room he had summoned a House Elf. I don't really know how he did it - and I wasn't sure I wanted to.

"Yes, thank you."

The curve of his lips widened slightly. "Is your stomach quite full now?"

I eyed him through slightly narrowed eyes. I think that was the worst thing about Potter. It was if he was in a constant state of making a joke out of me. Most of the time I couldn't understand how he managed it, but nothing I did was ever pardoned from the twist of his humour.

Taking my silence as an answer, he settled comfortably back into the armchair and his gaze became expectant.

Oh, here we go.

I had planned to drag this out for as long as I could. Out of all the difficulties I had faced that day, admitting I was wrong to Potter _and _apologising was the hardest blow. I was stubborn like that, you see. Apologising to Potter was the gateway to a thousand times as much teasing as I was already subjected to. That was definitely something I wanted to avoid for as long as possible.

But admitting defeat and saying sorry was inevitable. It was time to be the dignified person that I strived to be, and step up to mark. I had to take it as it was, and face the music.

Straightening myself, I began. "Obviously, I am now aware that you didn't send the… envelope."

"Screamer," James corrected. I sent him a sharp look, to which he added, "Sorry. Continue."

"And, er, in a sensible, civil sort of manner, I suppose I should apologize. After all, we do work together and in order to make our partnership efficient there shouldn't be any overhanging negativity between us."

He cocked his head to the side. "You mean besides your utter lack of tolerance for me and my mates?"

"Then I will try to improve on that," I said. "But keeping in mind, having your friends see me half-naked isn't going to make me too happy."

"Actually, I'll apologize about that," James grinned, running a hand through his hair, "but I think Peter faired worse than you. Poor bloke's scared stiff of you now."

So he should be. After my earlier display, I'm sure that most of the boys were either terrified of me or thought I was an absolute loon.

And so the chasm of my non-existent love life deepens.

"Er, right, well then. I'm… sorry for accusing you of sending the inappropriate letter. I shouldn't have wasted my breath biting your head off when I should have been saving it to tell Sirius off."

Another crooked grin. "Yeah, he deserves a bit of a talking to sometimes."

"So do you," I said.

We settled into a silence that not even the clock disrupted. All that filled the room was the sound of the fire crackling, and the occasional muffled sound from the hallways outside.

And if I was going to be honest - and I won't be, ever again - I'd say it was sort of nice. In a civil, no-stress, it-was-nice-that-it-wasn't-Potter-pissing-me-off-for-once, kind of way.

I don't know how long had passed - the clock had finally shut up, remember? So I had almost forgotten he was there until he moved.

He stood up from the chair, stretching with a yawn. "Off to bed."

"Alright," I said, looking up to him. "Uh, in the morning can we sort something out to avoid all of these awkward encounters? I'm not sure how many more I can handle."

"'Course we can," he replied with a drowsy smile. "Goodnight, Evans."

"'Night, Potter."

* * *

**Monday 5th September 1977; **Head Student Dormitories, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland.

So that was it. My opening weekend from Hell. I just prayed to Merlin and Circe and whoever else up there laughing at me that they took pity on my poor soul and let me be.

At least for a week or so.

Please?


End file.
